Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/307

Strong they are as mills, or presses,
Lamb-like, gentle—free from vice,
At markets—oh, what pats, caresses!
And then the question—'What's their price?'
Men want to lead them to the king:
I pledge His Majesty in wine,
But sell them—that's a different thing!
I will not sell them,—they are mine.
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.

When our daughter shall have grown,
If the Prince desire her hand,
I shall give him all I own,
House and silver, goods and land;
But if for dowry he should pray
The oxen white and red,—good lack!
My daughter, throw that crown away,
Lead, lead the cattle homeward back!
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.