Believe The Best Of Everybody.

We Have Learned To Whittle The Eden Tree To The Shape Of A Surplice Peg, We Have Learned To Bottle Our Parents Twain In The Yelk Of An Addled Egg. We Know That The Tail Must Wag The Dog, For The Horse Is Drawn By The Cart, But The Devil Whoops, As He Whooped Of Old; It's Clever, But Is It Art?

Something I Owe To The Soil That Grew-more To The Life That Fed-but Most To Allah Who Gave Me Two Separate Sides Of My Head. I Would Go Without Shirt Or Shoes, Friends, Tobacco, Or Bread Sooner Than For An Instant Lose Either Side Of My Head.

There's A Legion That Never Was 'listed, That Carries No Colours Or Crest, But, Split In A Thousand Detachments, Is Breaking The Road For The Rest.

It Was The Forty-fathom Slumber That Clears The Soul And Eye And Heart, And Sends You To Breakfast Ravening. They Emptied A Big Tin Dish Of Juicy Fragments Of Fish- The Blood-ends The Cook Had Collected Overnight. They Cleaned Up The Plates And Pans Of The Elder Mess, Who Were Out Fishing, Sliced Pork For The Midday Meal, Swabbed Down The Foc'sle, Filled The Lamps, Drew Coal And Water For The Cook, An Investigated The Fore-hold, Where The Boat's Stores Were Stacked. It Was Another Perfect Day - Soft, Mild And Clear; And Harvey Breathed To The Very Bottom Of His Lungs.

Bite On The Bullet, Old Man, And Don't Let Them Think You're Afraid.