There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn read more

There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn to night;
No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,--
"I care for nobody, not I,
If no one cares for me."

In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and read more

In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.

What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives read more

What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet read more

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.

Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.

Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?

Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?

Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.

Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.

In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more

In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.