Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright And Yellow,

Peace And Rest At Length Have Come, All The Day's Long Toil Is Past; And Each Heart Is Whispering, "home, Home At Last!"

Sweet Are The Little Brooks That Run O'er Pebbles Glancing In The Sun, Singing In Soothing Tones.

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

There's A Double Beauty Whenever A Swan Swims On A Lake With Her Double Thereon.

The Cowslip Is A Country Wench.