Why ſhould thoſe Eteſian and Eaſterne winds blow cōtinually in ſome places, at ſet times, one way ſtill, in the dog dayes only: heere perpetuall drought, there dropping ſhowres; …

When your rooster crows at the break o' dawn Look out your windo' and I'll be gone You're the reason I'm a travelin' on But don't think twice, it's all right.

All the guitar solos (apart from “Watermelon In Easter Hay”) were xenochronous, creating a spacious, free-floating sonic universe.

[…] thus, I fear, at last Hume’s knavery will be the duchess’ wreck, And her attainture will be Humphrey’s fall: