Oh, don't the days seem lank and long, When all goes right and nothing goes wrong And isn't your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at!

The privilege and pleasure That we treasure beyond measure Is to run on little errands for the Ministers of State.

Life's a pudding full of plums.

Life's perhaps the only riddle That we shrink from giving up.

Things are seldom what they seem, Skim milk masquerades as cream.

You must stir it and stump it, And blow your own trumpet, Or trust me, you haven't a chance.

When a felon s not engaged in his employment, Or maturing his felonious little plans, His capacity for innocent enjoyment Is just as great as any honest mans.

If you're anxious for 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.

Is life a boon? If so, it must befall That Death, whene'er he call, Must call too soon.

Darwinian Man, though well-behaved, At best is only a monkey shaved!