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. She would never, never go back. ' We must not omit to mention that a family group from the pencil of little Winifred, representing Mr. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. ’ Your name alone would fill any music hall in London. She only weighed about 100 pounds and she was about 5’9”, much taller than you and I. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening.
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