Aaron Hill

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man read more

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.

She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
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She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
In her mouth, not a wooden ladle.

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!