“Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. 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. “But what can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. ‘Not if I heard him aright. "I'm never satisfied with a first attempt. . “Splendid it must be to be a composer. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother.
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