Sure Men Were Born To Lie, And

Is There No Hope? The Sick Man Said, The Silent Doctor Shook His Head, And Took His Leave With Signs Of Sorrow, Despairing Of His Fee To-morrow.

Fill Ev'ry Glass, For Wine Inspires Us, And Fires Us With Courage, Love And Joy. Women And Wine Should Life Employ. Is There Ought Else On Earth Desirous?

The Careful Insect 'midst His Works I View, Now From The Flowers Exhaust The Fragrant Dew, With Golden Treasures Load His Little Thighs, And Steer His Distant Journey Through The Skies.

I Never, With Important Air, In Conversation Overbear. . . . . My Tongue Within My Lips I Rein; For Who Talks Much Must Talk In Vain.

A Man Is Always Afraid Of A Woman That Loves Him Too Much