'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor With a hairy old crown on 'er 'ead? She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome, An' she pays us poor beggars in red.

Over all good things certain, this is sure indeed, Suffer not the old King, for we know the breed.

God help us for we knew the worst too young.

I always try to believe the best of everybody -it saves so much trouble.

These are the four that are never content: that have never been filled since the dew began-
Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the kite, and the hands of the ape, and the eyes of Man.

We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe.