I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t. 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. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked.
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