The Very Gnarliest And Hardest Of Hearts

This Goin' Ware Glory Waits Ye Haint One Agreeable Feetur.

Freedom Needs All Her Poets; It Is They Who Give Her Aspirations Wings, And To The Wiser Law Of Music Sway Her Wild Imaginings.

No Price Is Set On The Lavish Summer; June May Be Had By The Poorest Comer.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak.

Then To Side With Truth Is Noble When We Share Her Wretched Crust, Ere Her Cause Bring Fame And Profit, And 't Is Prosperous To Be Just; Then It Is The Brave Man Chooses, While The Coward Stands Aside, Doubting In His Abject Spirit, Till His Lord Is Crucified.