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.
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I'll be merry and free,
I'll be sad for nae-body;
If nae-body cares for me,
read more
I'll be merry and free,
I'll be sad for nae-body;
If nae-body cares for me,
I'll care for nae-body.
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
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.
I would do what I pleased, and doing what I pleased, I should
have my will, and having my read more
I would do what I pleased, and doing what I pleased, I should
have my will, and having my will, I should be contented; and when
one is contented, there is no more to be desired; and when there
is no more to be desired, there is an end of it.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
To be content with little is hard; to be content with much, impossible
To be content with little is hard; to be content with much, impossible
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
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.
