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But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. 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.
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This video was uploaded to meteo15jours.net on 25-06-2024 19:08:13
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