Ben Battle Was A Soldier Bold, And

My Books Kept Me From The Ring, The Dog-pit, The Tavern, And The Saloon.

Well For The Drones Of The Social Hive That There Are Bees Of An Industrious Turn, Willing, For An Infinitesimal Share Of The Honey, To Undertake The Labor Of Its Fabrication.

When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken, What Can An Old Man Do But Die?

It Was Not In The Winter Our Loving Lot Was Cast! It Was The Time Of Roses, We Plucked Them As We Passed!

Oh, If It Be To Choose And Call Thee Mine, Love, Thou Art Every Day My Valentine!