Ill fares the land, to hast'ning ill a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fade: A breath can make them, as a breath has made; but a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed can never be supplied.

Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, Adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.

I don't know nothing about no marriages or nothing. I ain't even never been to a wedding.