Bite On The Bullet, Old Man, And

A Black Shadow Dropped Down Into The Circle. It Was Bagheera The Black Panther, Inky Black All Over, But With The Panther Markings Showing Up In Certain Lights Like The Pattern Of Watered Silk. Everybody Knew Bagheera, And Nobody Cared To Cross His Path, For He Was As Cunning As Tabaqui, As Bold As The Wild Buffalo, And As Reckless As The Wounded Elephant. But He Had A Voice As Soft As Wild Honey Dripping From A Tree, And A Skin Softer Than Down.

Believe The Best Of Everybody.

Our England Is A Garden, And Such Gardens Are Not Made By Singing 'oh How Wonderful' And Sitting In The Shade, While Better Men Than We Go Out, And Start Their Working Lives By Grubbing Weeds From Garden Paths With Broken Dinner Knives.

Good Luck Go With You, O Chief Of The Wolves. And Good Luck And Strong White Teeth Go With Noble Children That They May Never Forget The Hungry In This World.

For All We Take We Must Pay, But The Price Is Cruel High.