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. " "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. 1. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks.
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