Payday came and with it beer

If he plays, being young and unskillful, For shekels of silver or gold, Take his money, my son praising Allah: The kid was ordained to be sold

Witta feared nothing - except to be poor.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

I've always believed that paradise will have my favorite beer on tap

God help us for we knew the worst too young.