Of All The Horrid, Hideous Notes Of

Yet Smelt Roast Meat, Beheld A Huge Fire Shine, And Cooks In Motion With Their Clean Arms Bared.

If From Society We Learn To Live, Solitude Should Teach Us How To Die.

Scion Of Chiefs And Monarchs, Where Art Thou? Fond Hope Of Many Nations, Art Thou Dead? Could Not The Grave Forget Thee, And Lay Low Some Less Majestic, Less Beloved Head?

Fare Thee Well, And If For Ever Still For Ever Fare Thee Well.

And Wrinkles, The Damned Democrats, Won't Flatter.