I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life's set prize.
Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chattered all the way. But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me!
Who knows but the world may end tonight
The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.