When I sit at my spinning wheel, And think on every station, I think I'm happiest myself, At my small occupation. No court, nor freet, nor dark debate, Can e'er attend my dwelling, While I make cloth of diff'rent sorts, Which is an honest calling. Indeed ye know the nights are lang, And sometimes I do weary, But, as they'll shortly turn again, I hope I'll grow more cheery. I'll sing a song with noble glee, And tune that I think canty, But I sing best, it is no jest, When the tobacco's plenty. I live content, I pay no rent, In my quiet habitation, For B———e he did order it, Which shews his great discretion. To favor one so low as me, While I was no relation; But now he's dead, and in the clay, I hope he's won the blessing. M'A—m brave, agrees to this Kind, honest disposition, He's charitable, just and true, Not like most men of fashion. I have no reason here to fret, That I was never married, Since I a free possession get, Of freedom I'm not wearied. For when around me I do look, And see the merchants dealing, For they do triple profit take For every thing they're selling; For honesty is grown so weak, It is so old a fashion, 'Tis not regarded in our day, 'Tis scarce throughout the nation. Kind Providence sent a good crop For to support our nation, But Satan's crew sent it abroad, Which is a sad vexation, That e'er such blackguard vagabonds Should have a habitation Below our British government, That takes this occupation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO NIGHT by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IMPROMPTU ON CHARLES II (2) by JOHN WILMOT THE WHITE ROAD UP ATHIRT THE HILL by WILLIAM BARNES A PASSING OF FAITH by GORDON BOTTOMLEY TO THYRZA (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON MUSINGS by MICHAEL J. CAMPIONE TO THE MEMORY OF MY WORTHY FRIEND, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE by CHARLES COTTON |