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. ”
But she could not talk freely about love, she found, for all that manumission. Nuns, I mean. On the orders of Mr Jarvis,
that were. . And me, I wish to know why you have seen
him. It was the grand nursery of vice. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her
mother's infamy. "
"Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. She
came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE4OC41OC4xNDEgLSAwOC0wNy0yMDI0IDE3OjQ3OjMwIC0gMTQyNTc5MzgxNg==
This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 05-07-2024 01:19:12