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We shall have him on his return. 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. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. Worse than any man. . Another glass, Jack. \" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. ” “Yes, but you forget; how am I to live?” “Easily.

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