Tis Not Her Coldness, Father, That Chills

Tis Not Her Coldness, Father, That Chills My Labouring Breast; It's That Confounded Cucumber I've Ate And Can't Digest.

Ghosts, Like Ladies, Never Speak Till Spoke To.

The Jackdaw Sat In The Cardinal's Chair! Bishop And Abbot And Prior Were There, Many A Monk And Many A Friar, Many A Knight And Many A Squire, With A Great Many More Of Lesser Degree,-- In Sooth A Goodly Company; And They Served The Lord Primate On Bended Knee. Never, I Ween, Was A Prouder Seen, Read Of In Books Or Dreamt Of In Dreams, Than The Cardinal Lord Archbishop Of Rheims.

Thrice Happy's The Wooing That's Not Long Adoing. So Much Time Is Saved In The Billing And Cooing.

I Was Between A Man And A Boy, A Hobble-de-hoy, A Fat, Little, Punchy Concern Of Sixteen.