Let my temptation be a book, which I shall purchase, hold and keep.
What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.
A mighty good sausage stuffer was spoiled when the man became a poet.
But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese.
Here we have a baby. It is composed of a bald head and a pair of lungs.
The biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.