Oh, Stay, Sweet Warbling Woodlark, Stay, Nor

At Length His Lonely Cot Appears In View, Beneath The Shelter Of An Aged Tree; Th' Expectant Wee-things, Toddling, Stacher Thro' To Meet Their Dad, Wi' Flichterin Noise An' Glee.

But Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread, You Seize The Flower, It's Bloom Is Shed; Or, Like The Snow-fall In The River, A Moment White, Then Melts Forever.

O, My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose.

Dare To Be Honest And Fear No Labor. ... Opera Is Where A Man Gets Stabbed In The Back, And Instead Of Dying, He Sings.

How Wretched Is The Person Who Hangs On By The Favors Of The Powerful.