Let The Punishment Fit The

Bow, Bow, Ye Lower Middle Classes! Bow, Bow, Ye Tradesmen, Bow, Ye Masses!

Society Has Quite Forsaken All Her Wicked Courses, Which Empties Our Police Courts, And Abolishes Divorces.

I Am A Child Of Nature, And Take After My Mother.

Ah, Pray No Mistake, We Are Not Shy; We're Very Wide Awake The Moon And I.

If You're Anxious To Shine In The High Aesthetic Line As A Man Of Culture Rare, You Must Get Up All The Germs Of The Transcendental Terms, And Plant Them Everywhere.