I ran to the bathroom and pissed out my ass for an hour, thanks to that old hamburger I ate.

But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find you're as cold as an icicle, In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks), crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle

Yet seas that daily gain upon the shore / Have ebb and flow conditioning their march, / And slow and sure comes up the golden year.

Bob and Sara are devoted to their children.