How, Like A Moth, The Simple Maid

If The Heart Of A Man Is Depressed With Cares, The Mist Is Dispelled When A Woman Appears.

Beasts Kill For Hunger, Men For Pay.

Some Folks Of Cider Make A Rout And Cider's Well Enough No Doubt When Better Liquors Fail; But Wine, That's Richer, Better Still, Ev'n Wine Itself (deny't Who Will) Must Yield To Nappy Ale

Lest Men Suspect Your Tale Untrue, Keep Probability In View.

Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And In My Arms Embrac'd My Lass; Warm Amidst Eternal Frost, Too Soon The Half Year's Night Would Pass.