He May Have Hair Upon His Chest

Sad Times May Follow Your Tracks, Bad Times May Bar You From Saks, Add Times When Satan In Slacks Breaks Down Your Self Control.

I Want To Ride To The Ridge Where The West Commences And Gaze At The Moon Till I Lose My Senses I Can't Look At Hobbles And I Can't Stand Fences Don't Fence Me In

Good Authors, Too, Who Once Knew Better Words Now Only Use Four-letter Words Writing Prose... Anything Goes.

Now: Heaven Knows, Anything Goes.

What Moments Divine , What Rapture Serene.