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His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
Estate agents. You can't live with them, you can't live with them. The first sign of these nasty purulent sores read more
Estate agents. You can't live with them, you can't live with them. The first sign of these nasty purulent sores appeared round about 1894. With their jangling keys, nasty suits, revolting beards, moustaches and tinted spectacles, estate agents roam the land causing perturbation and despair. If you try and kill them, you're put in prison: if you try and talk to them, you vomit. There's only one thing worse than an estate agent but at least that can be safely lanced, drained and surgically dressed. Estate agents. Love them or loathe them, you'd be mad not to loathe them.
I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.
I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to read more
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to kiss me for I am going home. Nothing can stop me now.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
The strength of a nation derives from the integrity of the home.
The strength of a nation derives from the integrity of the home.
Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered read more
Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And read more
When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'clock,
And summer is near its close--
It's--Oh, for the gate, and the locust lane;
And dusk, and dew, and home again!
