Who liv’d contented with their lot,
And lov’d the comforts of their cot.
With willing hand and chearful heart,
Each of life’s burden bore their part,
With patience all its ills withstood,
And thankfully receiv’d the good.
[p7]
Yet, they were not without their failings:
They lov’d the harvest-home regalings;
On summer evenings on the green
At cricket oft was Homespun seen;