It’s fine to have a blow—out in a… With terrapin and canvas—back and… To enjoy the flowers and music, wa… Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the… It’s bully in a high—toned joint t…

So now I take a bitter road Whereon no bourne I see, And wearily I lift the load That once I bore with glee. For me no more by sea or shore

I used to think a pot of ink Held magic in its fluid, And I would ply a pen when I Was hoary a a Druid; But as I scratch my silver thatch

Dusting my books I spent a busy d… Not ancient toes, time—hallowed an… but modern volumes, classics in th… whose makers now are numbered with… Men of a generation more than mine…

When they shall close my careless… And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her li… A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words…

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

Time, the Jester, jeers at you; Your life’s a fleeting breath; Your birthday’s flimsy I.O.U. To that old devil, Death. And though to glory you attain,

“Flowers, only flowers—bring me da… Blossoms for forgetfulness,” that… So we sacked our gardens, violets… Lilies white and bluebells laid we… Soft his pale hands touched them,…

When Chewed—ear Jenkins got hitch… His flowin’ locks, ye recollect, w… But in old Hymen’s jack—pot, it’s… Them flowin’ locks jest disappeare… Jest seemed to wilt an’ fade away…

My tangoing seemed to delight her; With me it was love at first sight… I mentioned That I was a writer: She asked me: “What is it you wri… “Oh, only best—sellers,” I told h…

Dick’s dead! It was the Polack gu… Put powdered glass into his cage When I was tramping round the yar… I could have killed him in my rage… I slugged him with that wrench I…

When first I left Blighty they ga… And told me it ‘ad to be smothered… But blimey! I ’aven’t been able t… So far as I’ve gone wiv the vinta… For ain’t it a fraud! when a Boch…

Blind Peter Piper used to play All up and down the city; I’d often meet him on my way, And throw a coin for pity. But all amid his sparkling tones

There’s a cry from out the lonelin… Do you hear it, do you fear it, yo… You’re a—sobbing in your sleep, de… Do you hear the Little Voices all… All a—begging me to leave you. Da…