Here's To Us, Who's Like Us Damn

Critics! Those Cut-throat Bandits In The Paths Of Fame.

Oh, Stay, Sweet Warbling Woodlark, Stay, Nor Quit For Me The Trembling Spray, A Hapless Lover Courts Thy Lay, Thy Soothing, Fond Complaining.

That Hour O' Night's Black Arch The Keystane.

The Honest Man, Though E'er Sae Poor, Is King O' Men, For A' That!

I'm Truly Sorry Man's Dominion Has Broken Nature's Social Union.