Thou Shalt Not Take Moochers Into Thy

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

Guns Aren't Toys! They're For Family Protection, Hunting Dangerous Or Delicious Animals, And Keeping The King Of England Out Of Your Face!

Heaven Hears And Pities Hapless Men Like Me, For Sacred Ev'n To Gods Is Misery.

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

I Only Hope Those Rumors I Hear About What Goes On In Prison Are Greatly Exaggerated.