His Folly Has Not Fellow Beneath The

Oh I Have Been To Ludlow Fair, And Left My Necktie God Knows Where. And Carried Half Way Home, Or Near, Pints And Quarts Of Ludlow Beer.

Oh Who Is That Young Sinner With The Handcuffs On His Wrist? And What Has He Been After That They Groan And Shake Their Fists? And Wherefore Is He Wearing Such A Conscience-stricken Air? Oh They're Taking Him To Prison For The Colour Of His Hair.

In Every American There Is An Air Of Incorrigible Innocence, Which Seems To Conceal A Diabolical Cunning.

All Knowledge Is Precious Whether Or Not It Serves The Slightest Human Use.

This Is For All Ill-treated Fellows Unborn And Unbegot, For Them To Read When They're In Trouble And I Am Not.