The Coward Never On Himself Relies, But

But Monument Themselves Memorials Need.

Habit With Him Was All The Test Of Truth; It Must Be Right: I've Done It From My Youth.

To The House Of A Friend If You're Pleased To Retire, You Must All Things Admit, You Must All Things Admire; You Must Pay With Observance The Price Of Your Treat, You Must Eat What Is Praised, And Must Praise What You Eat.

Lo! The Poor Toper Whose Untutored Sense, Sees Bliss In Ale, And Can With Wine Dispense; Whose Head Proud Fancy Never Taught To Steer, Beyond The Muddy Ecstasies Of Beer.

Oh How The Passions, Insolent And Strong, Bear Our Weak Minds Their Rapid Course Along; Make Us The Madness Of Their Will Obey; Then Die And Leave Us To Our Griefs As Prey!