“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....”

“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!”

“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!”

“and then woe is you, Pauly. Woe to the max.”

“He who loves 50 people has 50 woes; he who loves no one has no woes.”

“Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty. Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale. Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal. Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness. Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation. Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway.”