Page:Claude McKay Constab Ballads.djvu/76

72

As a labourer livin’ content,

Wid at night a rest-place for me head,

Oh! how gaily my life will be spent,

Wid de baneful ambition gone dead.

An’ when, after a day’s wukin’ hard,

I go home to a fait’ful wifee,

For my toilin’ dere’ll be its reward,

A peaceful heart happy an’ free.

An’ me children shall grow strong an’ true,

But I’ll teach dem dat life is a farce,

An’ de best in dis wul’ dey can do

Is to bear with content its sad cross.

So I’ll make meself happy at home,

An’ my life will be pleasanter yet;

I will take de hard knocks as dey come,

But will conquer de worry an’ fret.

Oh! a labourer’s life’s my desire

In de hot sun an’ pure season rains,

When de glow o’ de dark-red bush fire

Sends a new blood a-flow’n’ t’rough me veins.