You Cram These Words Into Mine Ears

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.

Keep Thy Foot Out Of Brothels, Thy Hand Out Of Plackets, Thy Pen From Lender's Books, And Defy The Foul Fiend.

My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I Strike It, And It Hurts My Hand.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

Who Can Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral, In A Moment? No Man.