Page:Plowman's ditty.pdf/2



Because I'm but poor, And slender my store, That I've nothing to lose is the cry; Let who will declare it, I vow I cant bear it, I give all such praters the lie.

Tho' my house is but small, Yet to have none at all, Would sure be a greater distress, Sir, Shall my garden, so sweet, And my orchard, so neat, Be the prize of a foreign oppressor?

On Saturday’s night ’Tis still my delight, With my wages to run home the faster, But if Frenchmen rule here, I may look far and near, But I never shall find a pay-master.

I've a dear little wife, Whom I love as my life, To lose her I should not much like