The three tours of Doctor Syntax In search of 1. The picturesque, 2. Of consolation, 3. Of a wife. The text complete. [By William Combe] With four illustrations |
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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
Farmer John.—
“An' please your Rev'rence here we are
Attending on our daily care:
I through my little fields must roam
While Mary governs things at home:
She is a kind industrious wife The blessing of a husband's life;
And she, I doubt not, would agree To speak with same content of me.
We, it is true, must have our cares,
Which mortal man in common shares.
The storm will sometimes blast the field,
And fruit-trees will refuse to yield;
While some incurable disease Does on our flocks and cattle seize:
But then fair plenty comes again, And flocks and herds adorn the plain.
Though whether it be good or ill, We patient bear our maker's will,
Conscious we ought not to repine:
At least that's Mary's way and mine.
Thus time our chequer'd way beguiles,
I never frown, she always smiles;
For Heaven is kind, and, as you see,
Gives us both health and industry:
While it will be our constant care These little bantlings here to rear,
In what our humble state demands, The honest labour of their hands.
That they when our old course is run,
May toil and thrive as we have done.
—And now, I hope you will think fit Of what we've got to pick a bit.
The oven does a pye afford, The ale looks bright upon the board,
The liquor's good and brisk and humming,
And soon the puddings will be coming.
Here is not much to cut and carve, But still I hope we shall not starve;
While I a grateful welcome give To what your kindness may receive.”
“An' please your Rev'rence here we are
Attending on our daily care:
I through my little fields must roam
While Mary governs things at home:
She is a kind industrious wife The blessing of a husband's life;
And she, I doubt not, would agree To speak with same content of me.
We, it is true, must have our cares,
Which mortal man in common shares.
The storm will sometimes blast the field,
And fruit-trees will refuse to yield;
While some incurable disease Does on our flocks and cattle seize:
But then fair plenty comes again, And flocks and herds adorn the plain.
Though whether it be good or ill, We patient bear our maker's will,
Conscious we ought not to repine:
At least that's Mary's way and mine.
Thus time our chequer'd way beguiles,
I never frown, she always smiles;
For Heaven is kind, and, as you see,
Gives us both health and industry:
While it will be our constant care These little bantlings here to rear,
In what our humble state demands, The honest labour of their hands.
That they when our old course is run,
May toil and thrive as we have done.
—And now, I hope you will think fit Of what we've got to pick a bit.
The oven does a pye afford, The ale looks bright upon the board,
The liquor's good and brisk and humming,
And soon the puddings will be coming.
Here is not much to cut and carve, But still I hope we shall not starve;
While I a grateful welcome give To what your kindness may receive.”
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |