" "Irons—heavy irons—night and day. 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. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. The risk I run is nothing to yours. " "May be," returned the man gravely. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. “It was perhaps my fault. But, after some restoratives had been administered by Mrs. I heard only after it was all over. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 27-06-2024 22:18:37
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