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. ” “They’ll find out. " "Very interesting," said the Chinaman, with a wave of his tapering hand toward the roofs. “And here’s where John creates his crazy experiments. What was their surprise to find it vacant, and the prisoner gone! Jonathan, could scarcely believe his eyes. . ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. He was detained.
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