I Never Saw So Sweet A Face.

I Am The Self-consumer Of My Woes.

I Am Gennerally Understood Tho I Do Not Use That Awkward Squad Of Pointings Called Commas Colons Semicolons Etc.

I Lost The Love Of Heaven Above I Spurned The Lust Of Earth Below I Felt The Sweets Of Fancied Love And Hell Itself My Only Foe.

While Snow The Window-panes Bedim, The Fire Curls Up A Sunny Charm, Where, Creaming O'er The Pitcher's Rim, The Flowering Ale Is Set To Warm; Mirth, Full Of Joy As Summer Bees, Sits There, Its Pleasures To Impart, And Children, 'tween Their Parent's Knees, Sing Scraps Of Carols O'er By Heart.

He Could Not Die When The Trees Were Green, For He Loved The Time Too Well.