My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground,

If The Heart Of A Man Is Depressed With Cares, The Mist Is Dispell'd When A Woman Appears; Like The Notes Of A Fiddle, She Sweetly, Sweetly Raises The Spirits, And Charms Our Ears.

Why Is The Hearse With Scutcheons Blazon'd Round, And With The Nodding Plume Of Ostrich Crown'd? No; The Dead Know It Not, Nor Profit Gain; It Only Serves To Prove The Living Vain.

Do You Think Your Mother And I Should Have Lived Comfortably So Long Together, If Ever We Had Been Married? Baggage!

Beasts Kill For Hunger, Men For Pay.

Shall Ignorance Of Good And Ill Dare To Direct The Eternal Will? Seek Virtue, And Of That Possest, To Providence Resign The Rest.