"Well, he's a pretty fellow at all events," observed Mrs. Nicholas had not dared to tell his father about the Valade girl. . It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. 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.
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