DRIVING MAXIMS
Up the hill urge him not;
Down the hill drive him not;
Cross the flat spare him not;
To the hostler trust him not.
IRISH SONG
My Land
She is a rich and rare land!
Oh! she’s a fresh and fair land!
She is a dear and rare land,
This native land of mine.
No men than her’s are braver,
Her women’s hearts ne’er waver;
I’d freely die to save her,
And think my lot divine.
She’s not a dull or cold land,
No! she’s a warm and bold land,
Oh! she’s a true and old land,
This native land of mine.