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. Part 2 Before Capes could answer her in any way the door at the end of the laboratory opened noisily and Miss Klegg appeared. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty.
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