Edmund Vance Cooke

Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
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Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loath to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met,
Keep them not in waiting yet;
Kisses kept are wasted.

But as for all the rest,
There's hardly one (I may say none) who stands the Artist's test.
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But as for all the rest,
There's hardly one (I may say none) who stands the Artist's test.
The Artist is a rare, rare breed. There were but two, forsooth,
In all me time (the stage's prime!) and The Other One was Booth.

The Moo-cow-moo's got a tail like a rope
En it's ravelled down where it grows,
En it's read more

The Moo-cow-moo's got a tail like a rope
En it's ravelled down where it grows,
En it's just like feeling a piece of soap
All over the moo-cow's nose.