From neighbors' broils they kept away; No liking for such things had they, And oh, each had a canny mind, And could be deaf, and dumb, and blind. With words or pence was neither free— For he was Scotch, and so was she.
I would not have you think this pair Went on in weather always fair, For well you know in married life Will come, sometimes, the jar and strife; They couldn't always just agree— For he was Scotch, and so was she.
But near of heart they ever kept, Until at close of life they slept; Just this to say when all was past, They loved each other to the last! They're loving yet, in heaven, maybe— For he was Scotch, and so was she.
THE PLOUGHMAN.
Friend, mark these muscles; mine's a frame Born, grown, and fitted for the toil. My father, tiller of the soil, Bequeathed them to me with my name.
Fear work? Nay, many times and oft Upon my brow the sweat-bead stands, And these two brown and sinewy hands, Methinks, were never white or soft.
I earn my bread and know its worth, Through days that chill and days that warm, I wrest it with my strong right arm From out the bosom of the earth.
The moneyed man may boast his wealth, The high-born boast his pedigree, But greater far, it seems to me, My heritage of brawn and health.