THE OLD STONE CROSS A STATESMAN is an easy man, He tells his lies by rote; A journalist makes up his lies And takes you by the throat; So stay at home' and drink your beer And let the neighbours' vote, i{Said the man in the golden breastplate Under the old stone Cross.} Because this age and the next age Engender in the ditch, No man can know a happy man From any passing wretch; If Folly link with Elegance No man knows which is which, i{Said the man in the golden breastplate Under the old stone Cross.} But actors lacking music Do most excite my spleen, They say it is more human To shuffle, grunt and groan, Not knowing what unearthly stuff Rounds a mighty scene, i{Said the man in the golden breastplate Under the old stone Cross.}