It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way,

If Thou Tastest A Crust Of Bread, Thou Tastest All The Stars And All The Heavens.

Tis Looking Downward Makes One Dizzy.

Imperfection Means Perfection Hid.

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See, Nor Is She Spoiled, I Take It, If A Crown Completes The Forehead Pale And Tresses Pure.

Again The Cousin's Whistle! Go, My Love.