The Man Who Pretends To

A Truth That's Told With Bad Intent Beats All The Lies You Can Invent.

This Life's Dim Windows Of The Soul Distorts The Heavens From Pole To Pole And Leads You To Believe A Lie When You See With, Not Through, The Eye.

Then The Parson Might Preach, & Drink, & Sing, And We'd Be As Happy As Birds In The Spring; And Modest Dame Lurch, Who Is Always At Church, Would Not Have Bandy Children, Nor Fasting, Nor Birch.

God And His Priest And King,...make Up A Heaven Of Our Misery.

If Others Had Not Been Foolish, We Should Be So.