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All the village was
assembled in the churchyard. 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. You
might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. 13
Montague Street. ’
‘A French ghost?’
‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had
rejoined, his tone affronted.
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This video was uploaded to casualcorneroutlet.net on 13-07-2024 13:55:03