( 6 )
I travell'd all day with a pack on my back,
I ask'd every person what they did lack,
They pric'd my goods, but bought none at a',
Yet I have contentment, that's best of a',
I went to some Ladies to sell my goods,
Some muslins and fine rambricks, fit for hoods,
They ruffled my goods, but bought none at a',
Yet I have contentment, that's best of a'.
Sometimes my bed-chamber is not very neat,
Being sometimes of barley, often of wheat,
At other times, but the hare barn wa':
Yet I have contentment, that's best of a'.
Other sometimes but the bare barn floor,
Instead of a window, a hole in the door,
Where day-light shines in, though it be sma'.
Yet I have contentment, that's best of a'.
TEARS WASH MY SAD CHEEKS.
TEars wash my sad cheeks, whilst I relate the story,
of Henry the bravest of all British tars,
Cover'd with laurels, surrounded with glory,
his fears shew'd the share that he had in the wars:
Under brave Rodney he fought and obtain'd
both the thanks and applause of his captain and crew,
But cruel the fate and unkind, that ordain'd,
such an end to my Henry so brave and so true.
With rapture he fixed his fond eyes upon me,
the few hours he'd leave for to spend upon shore;
My heart, how it beat when be, tore himself from me,
tho' little I thought I would ne'er see him more:
