MY FRIEND AND PITCHER.
The wealthy fool, with gold in store,
Will still desire to grow richer;
Give me but these, I ask no more,
My charming girl, my friend and pitcher,
My friend so rare my girl so fair,
With such what mortal can be richer;
Give me but these, a fig for care,
With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher.
From morning sun I'd never grieve,
To toil, a hedger or a ditcher,
If that when l come home at eve,
I might enjoy my friend and pitcher.
My friend so rare, &c.
Tho' fortune ever shuns my door,
I know not what can thus bewitch her.
With all my heart can I be poor,
With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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