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 fight over money all of the time. \"See ya later, Michelle. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. “Come on in, Michelle. Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. Not these twenty year.
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