Do not disquiet yourself. 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're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. Spurling, squeezing Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, "and, don't come here again. The movement was fatal to her son. Come to take leave. . As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it.
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