All The People Like Us Are We,

God Could Not Be Everywhere, And Therefore He Made Mothers.

He Who Faces No Calamity Gains No Courage.

For Undemocratic Reasons And For Motives Not Of State, They Arrive At Their Conclusions, Largely Inarticulate. Being Void Of Self-expression They Confide Their Views To None; But Sometimes In A Smoking Room, One Learns Why Things Were Done.

Ah! What Avails The Classic Bent And What The Cultured Word, Against The Undoctored Incident That Actually Occurred? And What Is Art Whereto We Press Through Paint And Prose And Rhyme- When Nature In Her Nakedness Defeats Us Every Time?

We're Poor Little Lambs Who've Lost Our Way, Baa! Baa! Baa! We're Little Black Sheep Who've Gone Astray, Baa-aa-aa! Gentlemen-rankers Out On The Spree, Damned From Here To Eternity, God Ha' Mercy On Such As We, Baa! Yah! Bah!