Mad as a March hare.

Old Abram Brown is dead and gone,-- You'll never see him more; He used to wear a long brown coat That buttoned down before.

A warke it ys as easie to be done As tys to saye Jacke! robys on.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. - Nursery Rhymes of England, 1844.

But when Fate destines one to ruin it begins by blinding the eyes of his understanding.