George Arnold

O sweet September, they first breezes bring the dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, the cool fresh air whence read more

O sweet September, they first breezes bring the dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, the cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring and promise of exceeding joy hereafter.

But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or read more

But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do wear the crown, without the cross!

'Twas a jolly old pedagogue, long ago,
Tall and slender, and sallow and dry;
His form was read more

'Twas a jolly old pedagogue, long ago,
Tall and slender, and sallow and dry;
His form was bent, and his gait was slow,
His long thin hair was white as snow,
But a wonderful twinkle shone in his eye.
And he sang every night as he went to bed,
"Let us be happy down here below:
The living should live, though the dead be dead."
Said the jolly old pedagogue long ago.

Here
With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit:
read more

Here
With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit:
Alas!
They pass
Unheeded by:
And as they fly,
I,
Being dry,
Sit, idly sipping here
My beer.

The living need charity more than the dead.

The living need charity more than the dead.