Ten o'clock! Well, I'm sure I can't help it!
I'm up go away from the door!
Now, children, I'll speak to your mother
If you pound there like that any more. ...
A canvas-back duck, rarely roasted, between us,
A bottle of Chambertin, worthy of praise
Less noble a wine at our age would bemean us
A salad of celery en mayonnaise, ...
Oh, Lowbury pastor is fair and young,
By far too good for a single life,
And many a maiden, saith gossip's tongue,
Would fain be Lowbury pastor's wife: ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.