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 slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt.
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