By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town.

He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Who then will explain the explanation?

A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, And that's the reason he himself's so dirty

It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims; I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel