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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.
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 the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.
Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.
Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to
Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to
At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant read more
At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant wee-things, toddling, stacher thro'
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and read more
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
Where thou art, that is home.
Where thou art, that is home.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
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!
