My Father Was A Farmer

ne's vain delusion, o,

i dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this clusion, o;

the past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried, o;

but the present hour was in my pow'r, and so i would enjoy it, o.

no help, nor hope, nor view had i, nor person to befriend me, o;

so i must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me, o;

to plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, o;

for one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, o.

thus all obscure, unknooor, thro' life i'm doom'd to wander, o,

till down my weary bones i lay in everlasting slumber, o:

no view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, o;

i live to-day as well's i may, regardless of to-morrow, o.

but cheerful still, i am as well as a monar his palace, o,

tho' fortune's frown still hunts me

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