The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Robert Dow, merchant tailor, it was appointed that the sexton of St. 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. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned.
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