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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. In vain Wood protested his innocence. I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. I'm always shy the price of the ticket home.
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This video was uploaded to auctionswatch.info on 11-06-2024 08:49:09
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