Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. “Nothing. ” Her heart leaped within her as she caught that phrase. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. God only knows what I have done, or left undone.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 19-09-2024 00:44:12
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