I lay one happy night in bed And dreamed that all the dogs were… They’d all been taken out and shot Their bodies strewed each vacant l… O’er all the earth, from Berkeley…

To flatter your way to the goad of… O plausible Mr. Perkins, You’ll need ten tons of the softes… And butter a thousand firkins. The soap you could put to a better…

Now Lonergan appears upon the boa… And Truth and Error sheathe their… No more in wordy warfare to engage… The commentators bow before the st… And bookworms, militant for ages p…

Delay responsible? Why, then; my… Impeach Delay and you will make a… Thrust vile Delay in jail and let… For doing all the things that it s… Put not good-natured judges under…

See, Lord, fanatics all arrayed For revolution! To foil their villainous crusade Unsheathe again the sacred blade Of persecution.

Once-in the county of Marin, Where milk is sold to purchase gin Renowned for butter and renowned For fourteen ounces to the pound A bull stood watching every turn

Precursor of our woes, historic sp… What dismal records burn upon thy… On thee I see the maculating stai… Of passengers’ commingled blood an… In this red rust a widow’s curse a…

An 'actors’ cemetery’! Sure The devil never tires Of planning places to procure The sticks to feed his fires.

Twas a sick young man with a face… And an eye that was all alone; And he shook his head in a hopeles… As he sat on a roadside stone. ‘O, ailing youth, what untoward fa…

Says Gerald Massey: ‘When I writ… Of souls of the departed guides my… How strange that poems cumbering o… Penned by immortal parts, have non…

I dreamed I stood upon a hill, an… The godly multitudes walked to and… Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitl… With pious mien, appropriately sad… While all the church bells made a…

Sharon, ambitious of immortal sham… Fame’s dead-wall daubed with his i… Served in the Senate, for our sin… Each word a folly and each vote a… Law for our governance well skille…

Goddess of Liberty! O thou Whose tearless eyes behold the cha… And look unmoved upon the slain, Eternal peace upon thy brow,- Before thy shrine the races press,

In Congress once great Mowther sh… Debating weighty matters; Now into an asylum thrown, He vacuously chatters. If in that legislative hall

Over the man the street car ran, And the driver did never grin. ‘O killer of men, pray tell me whe… Your laughter means to begin. ’Ten years to a day I’ve observed…