Out of the wood my White Knight came: His eyes were bright with a bitter flame… As I clung to his stirrup leather; For I was only a dreaming lad, Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I had!

Mad Maria in the Square Sits upon a wicker chair. When the keeper asks the price Mad Maria counts her lice. No pesito can she pay,

No lyric line I ever penned The praise this parasitic bird; And what is more, I don’t intend To write a laudatory word, Since in my garden robins made

For five and twenty years I’ve run A famous train; But now my spell of speed is done, No more I’ll strain My sight along the treadless tracks,

Dames should be doomed to dungeons Who masticate raw onions. She was the cuddly kind of Miss A man can love to death; But when I sought to steal a kiss

I drink my fill of foamy ale I sing a song, I tell a tale, I play the fiddle; My throat is chronically dry, Yet savant of a sort am I,

I never killed a bear because I always thought them critters was So kindo’ cute; Though round my shack they often came, I’d raise my rifle and take aim,

The Shorter Catechism I burned my fingers on the stove And wept with bitterness; But poor old Auntie Maggie strove To comfort my distress.

Up into the sky I stare; All the little stars I see; And I know that God is there O, how lonely He must be! Me, I laugh and leap all day,

As I sat by my baby’s bed That’s open to the sky, There fluttered round and round my head A radiant butterfly. And as I wept —of hearts that ache

He asked the lady in the train If he might smoke: she smiled consent. So lighting his cigar and fain To talk he puffed away content, Reflecting: how delightful are

My Lady is dancing so lightly, The belle of the Embassy Ball; I lied as I kissed her politely, And hurried away from it all. I’m taxiing up to Montmartre,

My Louis loved me oh so well And spiered me for his wife; He would have haled me from the hell That was my bawdy life: The mother of his bairns to be,

He gave a picture exhibition, Hiring a little empty shop. Above its window: FREE ADMISSION Cajoled the passers—by to stop; Just to admire —no need to purchase,

In the gay, gleamy morn I adore to go w… And oh what sweet people I meet on my w… I hail them with joy for I love to be t… Although I have nothing important to sa… I cheer the old grannies whose needles a…