Maxioms by Thomas Hood
A man of refined taste and judgment.
A man of refined taste and judgment.
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver read more
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver is to him
As if it never made a dam.
Sweet are the little brooks that run
O'er pebbles glancing in the sun,
Singing in soothing tones.
Sweet are the little brooks that run
O'er pebbles glancing in the sun,
Singing in soothing tones.
A greater liar than the Parthians.
A greater liar than the Parthians.
Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
read more
Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
And woo the public eye.
Something I must invent and paint;
But oh my wit is not
Like one of those kind substantives
That answer Who and What?
