Accustomed As I Am To Public Speaking,

Drinking Is Bad Taste But Tastes Good.

In The Order Named, These Are The Hardest To Control - Wine, Women And Song.

The Rich Man Has His Motorcar, His Country And His Town Estate, He Smokes A Fifty-cent Cigar And Jeers At Fate. He Frivols Through The Livelong Day, He Knows Not Poverty, Her Pinch. His Lot Seems Light, His Heart Seems Gay; He Has A Cinch. Yet Though My Lamp Burns Low And Dim, Though I Must Slave For Livelihood- Think You That I Would Change With Him? You Bet I Would!

These Are The Saddest Of Possible Words, Tinker-to-evers-to-chance. Trio Of Bear Cubs Fleeter Than Birds, Tinker-to-evers-to-chance. Ruthlessly Pricking Our Gonfalon Bubble, Making A Giant Hit Into A Double, Words That Are Weighty With Nothing But Trouble, Tinker-to-evers-to-chance. This Brief Poem, Immortalized The Chicago Cubs' Double-play Combination: Shortstop Joe Tinker, Second Baseman Johnny Evers, And First Baseman Frank Chance.

We Have Nothing In Our History Or Position To Invite Aggression; We Have Everything To Beckon Us To The Cultivation Of Relations Of Peace And Amity With All Nations.