Joys Impregnate. Sorrows Bring Forth.

Dear Mother, Dear Mother, The Church Is Cold, But The Ale-house Is Healthy And Pleasant And Warm.

Piping Down The Valleys Wild, Piping Songs Of Pleasant Glee, On A Cloud I Saw A Child, And He Laughing Said To Me: "pipe A Song About A Lamb." So I Piped With Merry Cheer; "piper, Pipe That Song Again." So I Piped; He Wept To Hear.

Struggling In My Father's Hands, Striving Against My Swaddling Bands, Bound And Weary, I Thought Best To Sulk Upon My Mother's Breast.

The Hand Of Vengeance Found The Bed To Which The Purple Tyrant Fled The Iron Hand Crush'd The Tyrant's Head And Became Tyrant In His Stead.

Gratitude Is Heaven Itself; There Could Be No Heaven Without Gratitude.