Farmer（1 / 2）

my father was a farmer

tune—“the weaver and his shuttle, o.”

my father was a farmer upon the carrick border, o,

and carefully he bred me in decency and order, o;

he bade me act a manly part, though i had ne'er a farthing, o;

for without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, o.

then out into the world my course i did determine, o;

tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, o;

my talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education, o:

resolv'd was i at least to try to mend my situation, o.

in many a way, and vain essay, i courted fortune's favour, o;

some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour, o;

sometimes by foes i was o'erpower'd, sometimes by friends forsaken, o;

and when my hope was at the top, i still was worst mistaken, o.

then sore harass'd and tir'd at last, with fortune's vain delusion, o,

i dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, o;

the past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried, o;

but the present hour was in my pow'r, and so i would enjoy it, o.

no help, nor hope, nor view had i, nor person to befriend me, o;