Old Gold Has A Civilizing Virtue Which

It Is Mediocrity Which Makes Laws And Sets Mantraps And Spring-guns In The Realm Of Free Song, Saying Thus Far Shalt Thou Go And No Further.

I Tell Ye Wut, My Judgment Is You're Pooty Sure To Fail, Ez Long 'z The Head Keeps Turnin' Back For Counsel To The The Tail.

Moral Supremacy Is The Only One That Leaves Monuments, And Not Ruins, Behind It.

And The Poorest Twig On The Elm-tree Was Ridged Inch Deep With Pearl.

For There's Nothing We Read Of In Torture's Inventions, Like A Well-meaning Dunce, With The Best Of Intentions.