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. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. "You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. " "Ah, Jack," said Wood, shaking his head, "where there's a will there's a way.
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