The honest Ploughman.

Poor Tom is a husbandman, healthy and strong,

He follows his plough as it hobbles along,

And as he plods after it, sings him a song.

He’s up in the morning before the cock crows,

For he should not be idle, he very well knows;

Tho’ folks who are idle know that, I suppose.

And when the sun sets, and his work is done soon,

He finds his way home by the light of the moon:

She shines in his face, and he whistles a tune.

So when he gets home, (and he never delays,)

And sees his neat cot, and the cheerful wood blaze,

His heart glows within him with pleasure and praise.

’Tis those who won’t work, that mayn’t eat, it is said;

But Tom, with good appetite, takes his brown bread,

And cheerful and happy he goes to his bed.