He Is So Mean, He

All Human Joys Are Swift Of Wing, For Heaven Doth So Allot It; That When You Get An Easy Thing, You Find You Haven't Got It

What Smells So? Has Somebody Been Burning A Rag, Or Is There A Dead Mule In The Back Yard? No, The Man Is Smoking A Five-cent Cigar.

Mr. Clarke Played The King All Evening As Though Under Constant Fear That Someone Else Was About To Play The Ace.

Wynken, Blynken, And Nod One Night Sailed Off In A Wooden Shoe, - Sailed On A River Of Crystal Light Into A Sea Of Dew.

There Is A Glorious Candor In An Honest Quart Of Wine, A Certain Inspitation Which I Cannot Well Define.