Maxioms by John Byrom
My hair is grey, but not with years.
My hair is grey, but not with years.
Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.
Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.
How the devil is it that fresh features
Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?
How the devil is it that fresh features
Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?
He makes a solitude, and calls it peace.
He makes a solitude, and calls it peace.
Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
Would starve us all, or near it;
But be it known read more
Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
Would starve us all, or near it;
But be it known to Skin and Bone
That Flesh and Blood can't bear it.
