There Are Like To Be Short Graces

For Thy Sake, Tobacco, I Would Do Anything But Die.

My Only Books Were Woman's Looks,- And Folly 's All They 've Taught Me.

I Am, In Plainer Words, A Bundle Of Prejudices - Made Up Of Likings And Dislikings.

Oh For A Tongue To Curse The Slave Whose Treason, Like A Deadly Blight, Comes O'er The Councils Of The Brave, And Blasts Them In Their Hour Of Might!

I Cannot Sit And Think; Books Think For Me.