Gather Ye Rosebuds, While Ye May.

You Say To Me-wards Your Affection's Strong; Pray Love Me Little, So You Love Me Long.

But Ne'er The Rose Without The Thorn.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.

Outdid The Meat, Outdid The Frolic Wine.

He Who Has Suffered Shipwreck, Fears To Sail Upon The Seas, Though With A Gentle Gale.