THE OXEN.
I've two great oxen in my stable,
Two great white oxen marked with red,
The plough is made of wood of maple,
The goad of holly, hard as lead.
Thanks to my oxen, see my plain
In summer like a sea of gold!
More money in a week they gain,
Than what they cost by twenty-fold.
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.
See the lovely pair together!
How deep they plough, how straight they trace!
Rain, and sleet, and stormy weather,
Cold and heat, alike they face!
When I make them halt to drink
From their nostrils bursts a vapour!
And sometimes small birds, white and pink,
Settle on ebon horns that taper!
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.
