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. Let me make your future for you. How Jack Sheppard was taken to Westminster Hall 454 XXX. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope.
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