In All The Woes That Curse Our

Bow, Bow, Ye Lower Middle Classes! Bow, Bow, Ye Tradesmen, Bow, Ye Masses!

When The Enterprising Burglar Isn't Burgling; When The Cut-throat Isn't Occupied In Crime; He Loves To Hear The Little Brook A-gurgling; And Listen To The Merry Village Chime.

I Accept Refreshment At Any Hands, However Lowly.

Life's Perhaps The Only Riddle That We Shrink From Giving Up.

The Happiest Hour A Sailor Sees Is When He's Down At An Inland Town, With His Nancy On His Knees, Yo Ho! And His Arm Around Her Waist!