A policeman's lot is not a happy one

Things are seldom what they seem.

Saturday afternoon, although occurring at regular and well-foreseen intervals, always takes this railway by surprise.

When every blessed thing you have is made of silver, or of gold, you long for simple pewter.

Ah, pray no mistake, We are not shy; We're very wide awake The Moon and I.

I am a courtier grave and serious Who is about to kiss your hand: Try to combine a pose imperious With a demeanour nobly bland.

Spurn not the nobly born with love affected; nor treat with virtuous scorn the well connected.