Verse and Worse

At Modder, where I met 'im fust, I thought as 'ow ole Bill was dead; A splinter, from a shell wot bust, 'Ad fetched 'im somewheres in the 'ead; But there! It takes a deal to kil...

Abroad, we lose our self-respect; Wear whiskers; let our teeth protrude; Consider any garb correct, And no display of temper rude; Descending, when we cross the foam, To depths...

Virtue its own reward? Alas! And what a poor one, as a rule! Be Virtuous, and Life will pass Like one long term of Sunday-school. (No prospect, truly, could one find More unallu...

I have no knowledge of disease, No notion what ill-health may be, Since Housemaid's Throat and Smoker's Knees Mean something different to me To what they do to other folk. (This...

With guilty, conscience-stricken tears, I offer up these rhymes of mine To children of maturer years (From Seventeen to Ninety-nine). A special solace may they be In days of sec...