You've Gut To Git Up Airly Ef

Like Streams That Keep A Summer Mind Snow-hid In Jenooary.

Fortune Is The Rod Of The Weak, And The Staff Of The Brave.

True Love Is But A Humble, Low Born Thing, And Hath Its Food Served Up In Earthenware; It Is A Thing To Walk With, Hand In Hand, Through The Every-dayness Of This Workday World.

A Woman's Love Is Mighty, But A Mother's Heart Is Weak, And By Its Weakness Overcomes.

Then To Side With Truth Is Noble When We Share Her Wretched Crust, Ere Her Cause Bring Fame And Profit, And 't Is Prosperous To Be Just; Then It Is The Brave Man Chooses, While The Coward Stands Aside, Doubting In His Abject Spirit, Till His Lord Is Crucified.