Jane, Jane, tall as a crane!

Did I hear the word whiskey?

A great many people now reading and writing would be better employed keeping rabbits

We will have beer for lunch

The final crumbling of the rusty triangle

Dead, the leaves that like asses’s ears hung on the trees

Huge glasses of sloe gin

Yellow, meaningless, and shrill

I am an unpopular electric eel in a pool of catfish

There is a major problem

No liking but all lust

Old people do have falls