I Do Not Choose The Right Word,

But If You Ever Come To A Road Where Danger; Or Guilt Or Anguish Or Shame's To Share. Be Good To The Lad Who Loves You True, And The Soul That Was Born To Die For You; And Whistle And I'll Be There.

They Carry Back Bright To The Coiner The Mintage Of Man,the Lads That Will Die In Their Glory And Never Be Old.

The House Of Delusions Is Cheap To Build But Drafty To Live In.

Nature, Not Content With Denying Him The Ability To Think, Has Endowed Him With The Ability To Write.

Luck's A Chance, But Trouble's Sure.