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. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. I have had my day; and there were women in it. I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it.
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