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. The spirit of disaffection was busy throughout the kingdom. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed.
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