The Elders of the Tribe were grou… And squatted in the Council Cave; They seemed to be extremely pooped… And some were grim, but all were g… The subject of their big To—do

“Miss Rosemary,” I dourly said, “Our balance verges on the red, We must cut down our overhead. One of the staff will have to go. There’s Mister Jones, he’s mighty…

Within a pub that’s off the Stran… With pipe in mouth and mug in hand… “Come, sit ye down, ye wond’ring w… “I can’t,” says I, “because to—ni… To Tripoli and Trebizond and Tim…

I was Mojeska’s leading man And famous parts I used to play, But now I do the best I can To earn my bread from day to day; Here in this Burg of Breaking He…

A wild and woeful race he ran Of lust and sin by land and sea; Until, abhorred of God and man, They swung him from the gallows—tr… And then he climbed the Starry St…

I would rather drink than eat, And though I superbly sup, Food, I feel, can never beat Delectation of the cup. Wine it is that crowns the feast;

Nurse, won’t you let him in? He’s barkin’ an’ scratchen’ the do… Makin’ so dreffel a din I jest can’t sleep any more; Out there in the dark an’ the cold…

I had a friend, a breezy friend I liked an awful lot; And in his company no end Of happiness I got. We clicked in temper, taste and mo…

If dogs could speak, O Mademoisel… What funny stories they could tell… For instance, take your little “pe… How awkward if the dear could spea… How sad for you and all of us,

If on isle of the sea I have to tarry, With one book, let it be A Dictionary. For though I love life’s scene,

God’s truth! these be the bitter t… In vain I sing my sheaf of rhymes… And hold my battered hat for dimes… And then a copper collars me, Barking: “It’s begging that you b…

My Boss keeps sporty girls, they… His belly’s big with cheer. He squanders in a single day What I make in a year. For I must toil with bloody sweat…

Ye who know the Lone Trail fain w… Though it lead to glory or the dar… Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid y… The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail f… The trails of the world be countle…

How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke…

Pines against the sky, Pluming the purple hill; Pines . . . and I wonder why, Heart, you quicken and thrill? Wistful heart of a boy,