Yes, Child Of Suffering, Thou May'st Well

Me Wretched! Let Me Curr To Quercine Shades! Effund Your Albid Hausts, Lactiferous Maids! O, Might I Vole To Some Umbrageous Clump,-- Depart,--be Off,--excede,--evade,--erump!

Have The Courage To Act Instead Of React.

To Reach A Port We Must Sail, Sometimes With The Wind, And Sometimes Against It. But We Must Not Drift Or Lie At Anchor.

A Goose Flies By A Chart Which The Royal Geographical Society Could Not Mend.

Sweet Is The Scene Where Genial Friendship Plays The Pleasing Game Of Interchanging Praise.