“Sung to the tune of O Christmas TreeO woe is me,O woe is me,I used to have a hamster tree,But it was eaten by a newt,And now I have no cuddly fruit,O woe is me,O woe is me,I used to have a hamster tree!”

“Song in the Manner of Housman" O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. Woe! woe, etcetera.... London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera....”

“Think not, O Mortal, vainly gay.That Thou from Human Woes is free,The bitter cup I drink today,Tomorrow may be drunk by thee.”

“I doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman.”

“Woe! Woe! Woe!"Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep of His pasture!"Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood and by iniquity!"Woe unto you that are rich! For ye have received your consolation!"Woe to the pastors who are brutish and have not sought the Lord!"Woe to the Inquisitors, for Jesus will inquire unto them!"Blessed are the faggots, for their voices will be an angel's choir."Blessed is my sister, Lila, for heaven is within her."Blessed are the rabble, for they shall know God."But woe upon you, for the evil of your own doings shall be visited upon you."Let my sister go!”

“Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee, as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.”