O, I Do Not Like That Paying

Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps.

It Were A Grief So Brief To Part With Thee. Farewell.

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

They Are Fairies; He That Speaks To Them Shall Die. I'll Wink And Couch; No Man Their Works Must Eye.

Advance Our Standards, Set Upon Our Foes; Our Ancient Word Of Courage, Fair Saint George, Inspire Us With The Spleen Of Fiery Dragons!