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.

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

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

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.

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.

From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.

From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.

Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing read more

Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing hand what is sufficient for his
wants.
[Lat., Multa petentibus
Desunt multa; bene est cui deus obtulit
Parca quod satis est manu.]

We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
read more

We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudent to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.

The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from
heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of read more

The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from
heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of those who covet nothing.
[Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A dis plura feret. Nil cupientium
Nudus castra peto.]

Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.

Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.