Go mad, and beat their wives; Plunge (after shocking lives) Razors and carving knives Into their gizzards. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
The auld wife sat at her ivied door, (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) A thing she had frequently done before; And her spectacles lay on her apron'd knees... — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
But ah! disasters have their use; And life might e'en be too sunshiny... — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Read not Milton, for he is dry; nor Shakespeare, for he wrote of common life. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Life is with such all beer and skittles. They are not difficult to please About their victuals. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
I can not sing the old songs now! It is not that I deem them low, 'Tis that I can't remember how They go. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Go mad, and beat their wives; Plunge (after shocking lives) Razors and carving knives Into their gizzards. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Oh Beer! Oh Hodgson, Guinness, Allsop, Bass! Names that should be on every infant's tongue! Shall days and months and years and centuries pass,… — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Should ever anything be missed - milk, coals, umbrellas, brandy - the cat's pitched into with a boot or anything that's handy. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that grovel-- Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
The heart which grief hath cankered, Hath one unfailing remedy - the Tankard. — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
Precious to me—it is the Dinner Bell. Oh blessed Bell! Thou bringest beef and beer... — Charles Stuart Calverley Copy Share Image
