To Attempt To Advise Conceited

Coquetry Is The Champagne Of Love.

I Remember, I Remember, The House Where I Was Born, The Little Window Where The Sun Came Peeping In At Morn.

For Man May Pious Texts Repeat, And Yet Religion Have No Inward Seat

My Books Kept Me From The Ring, The Dog-pit, The Tavern, And The Saloon.

The Year's In Wane; There Is Nothing Adorning; The Night Has No Eve, And The Day Has No Morning; Cold Winter Gives Warning!