Читать книгу The Collected Novels - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 103

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!