I Will But Confess The Sins Of

Who O'er The Herd Would Wish To Reign, Fantastic, Fickle, Fierce, And Vain! Vain As The Leaf Upon The Stream, And Fickle As A Changeful Dream; Fantastic As A Woman's Mood, And Fierce As Frenzy's Fever'd Blood. Thou Many-headed Monster Thing, Oh Who Would Wish To Be Thy King!

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

One Or Two Of These Scoundrel Statesmen Should Be Shot Once A-year, Just To Keep The Others On Their Good Behavior.

Oh, On That Day, That Wrathful Day, When Man To Judgment Wakes Front Clay, Be Thou, O Christ, The Sinner's Stay, Though Heaven And Earth Shall Pass Away.

I Like A Highland Friend Who Will Stand By Me Not Only When I Am In The Right, But When I Am A Little In The Wrong.