W. S. Gilbert

As innocent as a new-laid egg.

Life's a pudding full of plums; Care's a canker that benumbs, Wherefore waste our elocution On impossible solution? Life's a pleasant institution, Let us take it as it comes!

On a tree by a river a little tomtit Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow" And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit Singing ‘Willow, titwillow, titwillow?'. "Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried, "Or a rather tough worm in …

Bad language or abuse I never, never use, Whatever the emergency; Though "Bother it" I may Occasionally say, I never use a big, big D-

Ah, take one consideration with another A policeman's lot is not a happy one!

I love my fellow-creatures, I do all the good I can, Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man And I can't think why!

He is an Englishman! For he himself has said it, And it's greatly to his credit, That he is an Englishman!. For he might have been a Rooshian A French or Turk or Proosian,

It's true I've got no shirts to wear, It's true my butcher's bill is due, It's true my prospects all look blue, But don't let that unsettle you! Never you mind! Roll on!

Roll on, thou ball, roll on Through pathless realms of space, Roll on!

Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite And the crew of the captain's gig.

You have a daughter, Captain Reese, Ten female cousins and a niece, A ma, if what I'm told is true, Six sisters and an aunt or two. Now, somehow, Sir, it seems to me, More friendly-like we all should be

By doing so, we shall, in course of time, Regenerate completely our entire land— Great Britain is that monarchy sublime, To which some add (but others do not) Ireland.

There's a little group of isles beyond the wave, So tiny you might almost wonder where it is— That nation is the bravest of the brave, And cowards are the rarest of all rarities. The proudest nations kneel at her command, She terrifies all …

The end is easily foretold, When every blessed thing you hold Is made of silver, or of gold, You long for simple pewter. When you have nothing else to wear But cloth of gold and satins rare,

Oh, philosophers may sing Of the troubles of a King, But of pleasures there are many and of worries there are none; And the culminating pleasure That we treasure beyond measure Is the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done.

Of that there is no manner of doubt— No probable, possible shadow of doubt— No possible doubt whatever.

One of you may be Baptisto's son, for anything I know to the contrary; but the other is no less a personage than the only son of the late King of Barataria. ... And I trust — I trust it was that one who slapped me on the shoulder and …

In enterprise of martial kind, When there was any fighting, He led his regiment from behind— He found it less exciting.

I should have preferred to ride through the streets of Venice; but owing, I presume, to an unusually wet season, the streets are in such a condition that equestrian exercise is impractical.

Is life a boon? If so it must befall That death when e're he call Must call too soon.

I've jibe and joke, And quip and crank, For lowly folk And men of rank.

Heigh-dy! Heigh-dy! Misery me, lack-a-day-dee! He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

When maiden loves, she sits and sighs, She wanders to and fro - Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes, And to all questions she replies With a sad "heigh ho!"

Some word that teems with hidden meaning, like "Basingstoke". It might recall me to my saner self. For, after all, I am only Mad Margaret! Daft Meg! Poor Meg! He! he! he!