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The soldiers! They must not find her here. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. Softly she rose to her feet. 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. I hung around Harvard a little when you were there.
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This video was uploaded to arbitre.info on 28-05-2024 19:58:31
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