Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
Here's the everlasting rub: neither am I good nor bad.

I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.

I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling.

The flies there are sleeping quietly.

Twist my right arm in the dark.

I would give two or three for one of those days that never made impressions on
the old score.


I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone's saved; we're in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.


Time for awaking.
The tea lady's making a brew-up and baking new bread.


Pick me up at half past none, there's not a moment to lose.
There is the train on which I came.

On the platform are my old shoes.

Station master rings his bell.

Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).


I thank everybody for making me welcome.
I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.