I Find Cambridge An Asylum, In Every

Lovers Lying Two And Two Ask Not Whom They Sleep Beside, And The Bridegroom All Night Through Never Turns Him To The Bride.

Give Me A Land Of Boughs In Leaf A Land Of Trees That Stand; Where Trees Are Fallen There Is Grief; I Love No Leafless Land.

Earth And High Heaven Are Fixed Of Old And Founded Strong.

Ale, Man, Ale's The Stuff To Drink For Fellows Whom It Hurts To Think.

Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff: You Eat Your Victuals Fast Enough; There Can't Be Much Amiss, 'tis Clear, To See The Rate You Drink Your Beer. But Oh, Good Lord, The Verse You Make, It Gives A Chap The Belly-ache. The Cow, The Old Cow, She Is Dead; It Sleeps Well The Horned Head: We Poor Lads, 'tis Our Turn Now To Hear Such Tunes As Killed The Cow. Pretty Friendship 'tis To Rhyme Your Friends To Death Before Their Time. Moping, Melancholy Mad: Come, Pipe A Tune To Dance To, Lad.