I Shall Carry To The Catacombs Of

Love, Unrequited, Robs Me Of My Rest: Love, Hopeless Love, My Ardent Soul Encumbers: Love, Nightmare-like, Lies Heavy On My Chest, And Weaves Itself Into My Midnight Slumbers!

I Am, In Point Of Fact, A Particularly Haughty And Exclusive Person, Of Pre-adamite Ancestral Descent. You Will Understand This When I Tell You That I Can Trace My Ancestry Back To A Protoplasmal Primordial Atomic Globule.

When In That House Mps Divide/if They've A Brain And Cerebellum, Too/they've Got To Leave That Brain Outside/and Vote Just As Their Leaders Tell 'em To.

Bind Up Their Wounds - But Look The Other Way.

A Popular Speaker, However Unpopular And Insignificant, Has Only To Wind Up His Speech With Half-a-dozen Lines Of Shakespeare (and To Make It Clearly Understood That They Are Shakespeare's) And He Will Sit Down Amid Thunders Of Applause.