Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
Smiling the boy fell dead.
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.