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 you must promise me not to go near that abandoned
hussy at Willesden. " He rose for fear she might
touch him again. The stench is everywhere. ”
He started back as though he had been shot. ’
Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. He passed, and came
loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her
foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him
again.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOS4zNy4yNTIgLSAwOS0wNy0yMDI0IDAxOjU2OjA3IC0gMTAzMjc5NTg0Mw==
This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 22:49:46