Dare To Be Honest And

Dweller In Yon Dungeon Dark, Hangman Of Creation, Mark! Who In Widow Weeds Appears, Laden With Unhonoured Years, Noosing With Care A Bursting Purse, Baited With Many A Deadly Curse?

I Look On The Opposite Sex With Something Like The Admiration With Which I Regard The Starry Sky On A Frosty December Night. I Admire The Beauty Of The Creator's Workmanship, I Am Charmed With The Wild But Graceful Eccentricity Of The Motions, And Then I Wish Both Of Them Goodnight.

Some Rhyme A Neebor's Name To Lash; Some Rhyme (vain Thought!) For Needfu' Cash; Some Rhyme To Court The Countra Clash, An' Raise A Din; For Me, An Aim I Never Fash; I Rhyme For Fun.

And Wild-scatter'd Cowslips Bedeck The Green Dale.

Learn Taciturnity And Let That Be Your Motto!