Nobody Shoulders A Rifle In Defense Of

The Delicate Thought, That Cannot Find Expression, For Ruder Speech Too Fair, That, Like Thy Petals, Trembles In Possession, And Scatters On The Air.

Thiar Ain't No Sense In Gittin' Riled!

The Creator Who Could Put A Cancer In A Believer's Stomach Is Above Being Interfered With By Prayers.

But, When The Goddess' Work Is Done,the Woman's Still Remains.

Hark! I Hear The Tramp Of Thousands, And Of Armèd Men The Hum; Lo, A Nation's Hosts Have Gathered Round The Quick Alarming Drum Saying, Come, Freemen, Come! Ere Your Heritage Be Wasted, Said The Quick Alarming Drum.