I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet, Wi' a' the honours three.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye, And lifts the sparkling cup on high; "I drink to one," he said, "Whose image never may depart, Deep graven on this grateful heart, Till memory be dead." . . . . St. Leon paused, as if he would Not breathe her name in careless mood Thus lightly to another; Then bent his noble head, as though To give the word the reverence due, And gently said, "My mother!"

Here's to France, the moon whose magic rays move the tides of the world.

Here's to our beloved George Washington, the Joshua of America, who commanded the sun and the moon to sand still--and they obeyed.

The bubble winked at me, and said, "You'll miss me brother, when you're dead."

Some have meat but cannot eat; Some could eat but have no meat; We have meat and can all eat; Blest, therefore, be God for our meat.