There's always in some pocket of your brain A care for me； wherefore my gratitude For your attention is commensurate With your concern. Yes, Burr, we are two kings； We are as royal as two ditch-diggers； But owe me not your sceptre. These are the days When first a few seem all； but if we live, We may again be seen to be the few That we have always been. These are the days When men forget the stars, and are forgotten.