I can't even say the word 'titmouse' without giggling like a schoolgirl.
Tell me, O muse, of travellers far and wide
The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.
Wine can of their wits the wise beguile, Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile
Evil deeds do not prosper; the slow man catches up with the swift.
How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men.