Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies

We See Which Way The Stream Of Time Doth Run.

Keep Thy Foot Out Of Brothels, Thy Hand Out Of Plackets, Thy Pen From Lender's Books, And Defy The Foul Fiend.

I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

But O, How Bitter A Thing It Is To Look Into Happiness Through Another Man's Eyes.

I Have No Way And Therefore Want No Eyes I Stumbled When I Saw. Full Oft 'tis Seen Our Means Secure Us, And Our Mere Defects Prove Our Commodities.