Be Slow To Judge For We Know

If I Were Hanged On The Highest Hill, Mother O' Mine, O Mother O' Mine! I Know Whose Love Would Follow Me Still Mother O' Mine, O Mother O' Mine!

It Thrilled Through Him When He First Felt The Keel Answer To His Hand On The Spokes And Slide Over The Long Hollows As The Foresail Scythed Back And Forth Against The Blue Sky.

What Is A Woman That You Forsake Her, And The Hearth-fire And The Home-acre, To Go With The Old Grey Widow-maker?

You May Talk O' Gin And Beer When You're Quartered Safe Out 'ere, An' You're Sent To Penny-fights An' Aldershot It; But When It Comes To Slaughter You Will Do Your Work On Water, An' You'll Lick The Bloomin' Boots Of 'im That's Got It.

The Glory Of The Garden Lies In More Than Meets The Eye.