“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. 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. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. That is why I came to London.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 17-09-2024 16:32:57
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