Old Father Jan did chide his son because he sleeping lay,
Instead of getting up to work at dawning of the day,
And told him how a certain boor, at daybreak in the field,
Had found his fallow ground a pot of gold did yield.
“Yes, father,” said young Jack, “’twas early, it may be,
But sure the man that lost the gold was earlier than he!”
Jan will take where’er he can,
Out of purse and out of sack,
Out of cupboard, chest or pack,