I AM a poor workman as rich as a Jew, A strange sort of tale, but however 'tis true; Come, listen awhile and I'll prove it to you So as nobody can deny, &c. I am a poor workman, you'll easily grant, Yet I'm rich as a Jew, for there's nothing I want, I have meat, drink, and clothes, and am hearty and cant; Which nobody &c. I live in a cottage, and yonder it stands; And while I can work with these two honest hands, I'm as happy as they that have houses and lands, Which nobody &c. I keep to my workmanship all the day long, I sing and I whistle, and this is my song, "Thank God, who has made me so lusty and strong," Which nobody &c. I never am greedy of delicate fare, If God give me enough, though 'tis ever so bare, The more is his love, and the less is my care; Which nobody &c. My clothes on a working day looken but lean, But when I can dress me, on Sundays I mean, Tho' cheap, they are warm; and tho' coarse, they are clean, Which nobody &c. Folk cry out "hard times," but I never regard, For I ne'er did, nor will set my heart upo' th' ward; So 'tis all one to me, bin they easy or hard, Which nobody &c. I envy not them that have thousands of pounds, That sport o'er the country with horses and hounds; There's nought but contentment can keep within bounds, Which nobody &c. I ne'er lose my time o'er a pipe or a pot, Nor cower in a nook like a sluggardly sot, But I buy what is wanting with what I have got. Which nobody &c. And if I have more than I want for to spend, I help a poor neighbour or diligent friend; He that gives to the poor, to the Lord he doth lend. Which nobody &c. I grudge not that gentlefolk dressen so fine; At their gold and their silver I never repine; But I wish all their guts were as hearty as mine, Which nobody &c. With quarrels o'th' country and matters of state, With Tories and Whigs I ne'er puzzle my pate; There are some that I love, but none that I hate, Which nobody &c. What tho' my condition be ever so coarse, I strive to embrace it for better and worse, And my heart, I thank God, is as light as my purse, Which nobody &c. Whatever, in short, my condition may be, 'Tis God that appoints it as far as I see, And I'm sure I can never do better than he, Which nobody &c. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA-GRAVE by SARA TEASDALE THE WIFE A-LOST by WILLIAM BARNES SPRING by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): THE MEETING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THE WEDDING DAY; OR, THE BUCCANEER'S CURSE; A FAMILY LEGEND by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |