The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those

The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those Of Tomorrow.

No Tree In All The Grove But Has Its Charms, Though Each Its Hue Peculiar.

The Frenchman, Easy, Debonair, And Brisk, Give Him His Lass, His Fiddle, And His Frisk, Is Always Happy, Reign Whoever May, And Laughs The Sense Of Mis'ry Far Away.

Man May Dismiss Compassion From His Heart, But God Never Will.

And Hast Thou Sworn On Every Slight Pretence, Till Perjuries Are Common As Bad Pence, While Thousands, Careless Of The Damning Sin, Kiss The Book's Outside, Who Ne'er Look'd Within?