The Princess was of ancient line, Of royal race was she; Like cameo her face was fine, With sad serentiy: Yet bent she toiled with dimming e…

He dreamed away his hours in schoo… He sat with such an absent air, The master reckoned him a fool, And gave him up in dull despair. When other lads were making hay

What have we done, Oh Lord, that… Are evil starred? How have we erred and sinned to be So scourged and scarred? Lash us, Oh Lord, with scorpion w…

In the wilds of Madagascar, Dwelt… For her hand young men would ask h… Oh that Boola—boola maid She was… And —when the day was done At the… As this ditty she was cooing, Cam…

When I am old and worse for wear I want to buy a rocking—chair, And set it on a porch where shine The stars of morning—glory vine; With just beyond, a gleam of grass…

Wars have been and wars will be Till the human race is run; Battles red by land and sea, Never peace beneath the sun. I am old and little care;

Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain

If you had a friend strong, simple… Who knew your faults and who under… Who believed in the very best of y… And who cared for you as a father… Who would stick by you to the very…

Light up your pipe again, old chum… I’ve got to watch the bannock bake… You’d little think that we were so… Though where I don’t exactly know… The man—size mountains palisade us…

Because back home in Tennessee I was a champeen shot, They made a sniper outa me An’ ninety krouts I got: I wish to Christ I’d not!

I wanted the gold, and I sought i… I scrabbled and mucked like a slav… Was it famine or scurvy—I fought… I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold, and I got it—

Familiarity some claim Can breed contempt, So from it let it be your aim To be exempt. Let no one exercise his brawn

Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun… And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me… Ice—blue eyes on every hand,

You’ve heard of Julot the apache,… Montmartre was their hunting—groun… A little chap just like a boy, wit… Yet there was nothing juvenile in… From head to heel as tough as stee…