Never Was Flattery Lost On

The Way Was Long, The Wind Was Cold, The Minstrel Was Infirm And Old; His Withered Cheek, And Tresses Gray, Seemed To Have Know A Better Day.

Heap On More Wood! - The Wind Is Chill; But Let It Whistle As It Will, We'll Keep Our Christmas Merry Still.

The Rose Is Fairest When 't Is Budding New, And Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears. The Rose Is Sweetest Wash'd With Morning Dew, And Love Is Loveliest When Embalm'd In Tears.

As Long As The Fates Permit, Live Cheerfully.

Where, Where Was Roderick Then? One Blast Upon His Bugle Horn Were Worth A Thousand Men.