[ 6 ]
This health well encore, ten thousand and more,
of Patrick’s sons in the nation,
Shamrocks we’ll wear, then of us take care,
all over the Irish nation.
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The CONTENTED RURICOLIST.
THe sun being set, and my work being done,
one more of my days being spent,
Then home to my cottage I tript it along,
and set myself down with content.
My cottage with woodbines are decked all round,
and the jessamines green at my door,
Where in it no trouble was there to be found,
I have nothing but ground for my floor.
My bed made of flocks, & my sheets are home spun,
no trouble ever enters my breast;
For at night being weary I lay myself down,
so contented I take me to rest.
With the lark in the morning I rise to my work,
there’s nothing perplexes my mind;
If my lambs go astray, see how careful I look,
so sure as you seek you shall find.
No thoughts about honour ever enter’d my breast;
or riches I ne’er can desire,
For the chief of my study is earning my bread,
to high title I ne’er can aspire.
With pipe made of straw for amusement I play,
see my lambs they skip over the plain,
Being blest with content, see my time slides away,
and at night to my cottage again.
