 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
THE PARENT.
A fond father's bliss to number his race,
And exult on the bloom that just buds on their face;
With their prattle he'll daily himself entertain,
And read in their smiles their lov'd mother again:
Men of pleasure, be mute, this is life's lovely view;
When we look on our young ones, our youth we renew.
And exult on the bloom that just buds on their face;
With their prattle he'll daily himself entertain,
And read in their smiles their lov'd mother again:
Men of pleasure, be mute, this is life's lovely view;
When we look on our young ones, our youth we renew.
Thus living we love, and thus loving enjoy!
No deceit here distracts, no debauches destroy;
From the May-morm of Youth unto Winter's white age,
Hand in hand, with contentment, we sing thro' life's stage;
When Death bids us stop, we end easy our song,
And give the Gods thanks that we've live'd well so long.
No deceit here distracts, no debauches destroy;
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Hand in hand, with contentment, we sing thro' life's stage;
When Death bids us stop, we end easy our song,
And give the Gods thanks that we've live'd well so long.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |