What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day And dances by false glare at night; But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves To spread its wings in Nature's light.
What sweet, what happy days had I,When dreams made Time Eternity!
Teetotallers lack the sympathy and generosity of men that drink.
When I had money, money, O! I knew no joy till I went poor; For many a false man as a friend Came knocking all day at my door.
No matter where the body is, the mind is free to go elsewhere.