The Glory Of The Garden

The Masterless Man . . . Afflicted With The Magic Of The Necessary Words. . . . Words That May Become Alive And Walk Up And Down In The Hearts Of The Hearers.

Yes, Making Mock O' Uniforms That Guard You While You Sleep

A Brave Heart And A Courteous Tongue. They Shall Carry Thee Far Through The Jungle, Manling.

I Have My Own Matches And Sulphur, And I'll Make My Own Hell.

Our England Is A Garden, And Such Gardens Are Not Made By Singing 'oh How Wonderful' And Sitting In The Shade, While Better Men Than We Go Out, And Start Their Working Lives By Grubbing Weeds From Garden Paths With Broken Dinner Knives.