The More I Get To Know People,

Each Violet Peeps From Its Dwelling To Gaze At The Bright Stars Above.

Poverty Sits By The Cradle Of All Our Great Men And Rocks All Of Them To Manhood.

I Call'd The Devil, And He Came, And With Wonder His Form Did I Closely Scan; He Is Not Ugly, And Is Not Lame, But Really A Handsome And Charming Man. A Man In The Prime Of Life Is The Devil, Obliging, A Man Of The World, And Civil; A Diplomatist Too, Well Skill'd In Debate, He Talks Quite Glibly Of Church And State.

But A Day Must Come When The Fire Of Youth Will Be Quenched In My Veins, When Winter Will Dwell In My Heart, When His Snow Flakes Will Whiten My Locks, And His Mists Will Dim My Eyes. Then My Friends Will Lie In Their Lonely Grave, And I Alone Will Remain Like A Solitary Stalk Forgotten By The Reaper.

All I Really Want Is Enough To Live On, A Little House In The Country... And A Tree In The Garden With Seven Of My Enemies Hanging In It.