His smile faded. 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. Some of my schemes are already in hand. Two persons, besides the clergyman and sexton, alone attended the ceremony. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate.
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