Well, If I Am A Man, A

An Ounce Of Mother Is Worth A Pound Of Clergy.

I Wasted My Substance, I Know I Did, On Riotous Living, So I Did, But There's Nothing On Record To Show I Did More Than My Betters Have Done.

There Is No Harm In A Man's Cub.

We're Poor Little Lambs Who've Lost Our Way, Baa! Baa! Baa! We're Little Black Sheep Who've Gone Astray, Baa-aa-aa! Gentlemen-rankers Out On The Spree, Damned From Here To Eternity, God Ha' Mercy On Such As We, Baa! Yah! Bah!

As I Pass Through My Incarnations In Every Age And Race, I Make My Proper Prostrations To The Gods Of The Market-place. Peering Through Reverent Fingers I Watch Them Flourish And Fall, And The Gods Of The Copybook Headings, I Notice, Outlast Them All.