His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stairs.

For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a'; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa'.

The dews of summer nights did fall, The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall And many an oak that grew thereby.

Somewhere in the trash he reads Martland has read that heavy men walk with surprising lightness and grace; as a result he trips about like a portly elf hoping …

When I'm good, I'm very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better.

Of courtesy it is much less Than courage of heart or holiness Yet in my walks it seems to me That the Grace of God is in courtesy.