Yes, I can readily believe it. 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. No, not one little bit. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest to the lock.
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