I Shall Carry To The Catacombs Of

What Though I Cannot Meet My Bills? What Though I Suffer Toothache's Ills? What Though I Swallow Countless Pills?

On My Face Extended Flat I Was Walloped With A Cat For Listening At The Key-hole Of The Door.

Oh, Wouldn't The World Seem Dull And Flat With Nothing Whatever To Grumble At?

The Idiot Who Praises, With Enthusiastic Tone, All Centuries But This, And Every Country But His Own.

Deerstalking Would Be A Very Fine Sport If Only The Deer Had Guns.