Friendship? Yes Please.

To Be Shelterless And Alone In The Open Country, Hearing The Wind Moan And Watching For Day Through The Whole Long Weary Night; To Listen To The Falling Rain, And Crouch For Warmth Beneath The Lee Of Some Old Barn Or Rick, Or In The Hollow Of A Tree; Are Dismal Things - But Not So Dismal As The Wandering Up And Down Where Shelter Is, And Beds And Sleepers Are By Thousands; A Houseless Rejected Creature.

Hallo! A Great Deal Of Steam! The Pudding Was Out Of The Copper. A Smell Like A Washing-day! That Was The Cloth. A Smell Like An Eating-house And A Pastrycook's Next Door To Each Other, With A Laundress's Next Door To That. That Was The Pudding.

For A Long Time, No Village Girl Would Dress Her Hair Or Bosom With The Sweetest Flower From That Field Of Death: And After Many A Year Had Come And Gone, The Berries Growing There, Were Still Believed To Leave Too Deep A Stain Upon The Hand That Plucked Them.

It's My Old Girl That Advises. She Has The Head. But I Never Own To It Before Her. Discipline Must Be Maintained.

Don't Be Afraid! We Won't Make An Author Of You, While There's An Honest Trade To Be Learnt, Or Brick-making To Turn To.