Lord help you! Tell ’em Queen Anne's dead

On their own merits modest men are dumb.

Oh, London is a fine town, A very famous city, Where all the streets are paved with gold, And all the maidens pretty.

Praise the bridge that carried you over.

Not to be sneezed at.

My father was an eminent button maker — but I had a soul above buttons — I panted for a liberal profession.

But when ill indeed, E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed.