Progress might have been all right once, but it's gone on too long.
I am a conscientious man, when I throw rocks at seabirds I leave no tern unstoned.
Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.
Beneath this slab John Brown is stowed. He watched the ads, And not the road.
How confusing the beams from memory's lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?
They take the paper and they read the headlines. So they've heard of unemployment and they've heard of bread-lines. And they philanthropically cure them all by getting up a costume charity ball.