I’ve been romping with my blue-eyed baby boy.
Though I faint beneath my cares,
And my wheat seems full of tares,
I can still have fullest peace without alloy;
For in the twilight gloam,
I shall hasten to my home,
And be greeted by my blue-eyed baby boy.
Let the morbid fellow groan,
In a melancholy tone,
Seeing only thorns and thistles that annoy;