” He beamed upon her. And when they got to Covent Garden Ramage secured one of the little upper boxes, and they came into it as the overture began. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. He groped her buttocks. 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. ” “I didn’t understand—your idea of making love.
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