Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508547" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Ed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our cowman, old Ed, hadn't much in his head,<br>And lots of folks though him a witling;<br>But he wasn't a fool, for he always kept cool,<br>And his sole recreation was whittling.<br>When I'd spill him my woes (ifantile, I suppose),<br>He'd harken and whittle and whittle;<br>then when I had done, turn his quid and say: &quot;Son,<br>Ye're a-drownin' yerself in yer spittle.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He's gone to his grave, but the counsel he gave<br>I've proved in predicaments trying;<br>When I got in a stew, feeling ever so blue,<br>My failures and faults magnifying,<br>I'd think of old Ed as he sniffed and he said:<br>&quot;Shaw! them things don't mater a tittle.<br>Ye darned little cuss, why make such a full?<br>Ye're a-drownin' yerself in yer spittle.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When you're tangled with care till you're up in the air,<br>And worry and fear have you quaking,<br>When each tiny trouble seems bigger than double,<br>Till mountains of mole-hills you're making:<br>Go easy, my friend, things click in the end,<br>But maybe 'twill help you a little,<br>If you take Ed's advise (though it may not sound nice):<br>Ye're a-drownin' yerself in yer spittle.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508547" data-title="Old Ed de Robert William Service" data-description="Our cowman, old Ed, hadn't much in his head,
And lots of folks though him a witling;
But he wasn't a fool, for he always kept cool,
And his sole recreation was whittling.
When I'd spill him my woes (ifantile, I suppose),
He'd harken and whittle an..."></div>
</div>
</div>