When gallant TOM SHEPPARD to Tyburn was led,— "Stop the cart at the Crown—stop a moment," he said. If so I shall have to leave. 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. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. That might happen on her birthday—in August. “I’ll ruin your suit. He glanced at his watch. His tongue was hot. This gentleman, tried for high treason, in 1716, on suspicion of aiding Mr.
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