Page:Excellent new song called the farmer's glory.pdf/2

 OME all ye merry Plowmen, Of courage ſtout and bold, Who labours all the winter, Through wind, rain, and cold, To clothe our fields with plenty And barn yards to renew And crowns them with contentment, That holds the painful plow.
 * Of all the occupations

And trade of every kind, Through all manured nation, There is not one I find, More uſeful in their ſtation You’ll find I ſpeak its true, Nor is there one ſo ancient As is the painful plow.
 * Hold plowman ſaid the gard’ner

Count not your trade like ours, But walk ye through the garden, And view the early flowers; See every curious border, And pleasant walks review? There’s no ſuch piece of pleaſure Performed by the plow. A paradise of pleaſure,
 * A garden is you know,

In Eden was a garden, Five thouſand years ago; And Adam was a gard’ner, Juſt when he was made new,