Tears Are The Noble Language Of The

Well I Sup And Well I Dine, When I Drink My Frolic Wine.

Tis Not The Food, But The Content, That Makes The Table's Merriment.

In The Hour Of My Distress, When Temptations Me Oppress, And When I My Sins Confess, Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me.

In Ways To Greatness Think On This, That Slippery All Ambition Is

Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.