War Is The Only Game In Which

One Or Two Of These Scoundrel Statesmen Should Be Shot Once A-year, Just To Keep The Others On Their Good Behavior.

Her Blue Eyes Sought The West Afar, For Lovers Love The Western Star.

Hurry No Man's Cattle; You May Come To Own A Donkey Yourself

Good Even, Good Fair Moon, Good Even To Thee. I Prithee, Dear Moon, Now Show To Me The Form And The Features, The Speech And Degree, Of The Man That True Lover Of Mine Shall Be.

Greatness Of Any Kind Has No Greater Foe Than A Habit Of Drinking.