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5. 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 should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. Here, take this youngster, Terry; my legs are lighter than old Nab's. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. “So far you’ve got me and I you.
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