What's The Newest Grief? Each Minute Tunes

I Had Rather Chop This Hand Off At A Blow, And With The Other Fling It At Thy Face.

I Do Know When The Blood Burns, How Prodigal The Soul Lends The Tongue Vows.

This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall, Lie At The Proud Foot Of A Conqueror.

When Workmen Strive To Do Better Than Well, They Do Confound Their Skill In Covetousness.

In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility.