And Silence Sounds No Worse Than Cheers

Ale, Man, Ale's The Stuff To Drink For Fellows Whom It Hurts To Think.

The Thoughts Of Others Were Light And Fleeting, Of Lovers' Meeting Or Luck Or Fame. Mine Were Of Trouble, And Mine Were Steady; So I Was Ready When Trouble Came.

Three Minutes Thought Would Suffice To Find This Out; But Thought Is Irksome And Three Minutes Is A Long Time.

Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff: You Eat Your Victuals Fast Enough; There Can't Be Much Amiss, 'tis Clear, To See The Rate You Drink Your Beer. But Oh, Good Lord, The Verse You Make, It Gives A Chap The Belly-ache. The Cow, The Old Cow, She Is Dead; It Sleeps Well The Horned Head: We Poor Lads, 'tis Our Turn Now To Hear Such Tunes As Killed The Cow. Pretty Friendship 'tis To Rhyme Your Friends To Death Before Their Time. Moping, Melancholy Mad: Come, Pipe A Tune To Dance To, Lad.

Give Me A Land Of Boughs In Leaf A Land Of Trees That Stand; Where Trees Are Fallen There Is Grief; I Love No Leafless Land.