church stands, once a la-zar-house
stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a ves-sel 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 li-quor, all fear! For nothing the
tran-sit to Ty-burn beguiles, So well as a
draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles!

II.

By many a highwayman many a draught
Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft,
Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down,
And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown.
_Where the robber may cheer_
_His spirit with beer,_
_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!_

III.

There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth,
OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth:
There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up,
And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup!
_For a can of ale calms,_
_A highwayman's qualms,_
_And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms_
_And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles_
_So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles!_

"Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at
the bottle. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse,
for it consarns a friend o' yours."

IV.

When gallant TOM SHEPPARD to Tyburn was led,--
"Stop the cart at the Crown--stop a moment," he said.
He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled,
Crying, "Keep it till call'd for by JONATHAN WILD!
"_The rascal one day,_
"_Will pass by this way,_
"_And drink a full measure to moisten his clay!_
"_And never will Bowl of Saint Giles have beguiled_
"_Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as_ JONATHAN WILD!"

V.

Should it e'er be _my_ lot to ride backwards that way,
At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay;
I'll summon the landlord--I'll call for the Bowl,
And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul!
_Whatever may hap,_
_I'll taste of the tap,_
_To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap!_
_For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles_
_So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles