George Gordon Noel Byron

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.