Page:Excellent new song called the farmer's glory.pdf/4

That bread might not be wanting,
I mean the painful plow.
There’s none that knows the plowman,
I think will him diſdain,
Who toils all kinds of weather,
Each trade for to maintain,
And were it not for the plowman,
Both rich and poor would rue,
For we have all dependance,
Upon the painful plow.
Theſe noble kings and princes,
Who do delight in wars,
Will for ſome ſmall pretences,
Raiſe up great blood and jars,
For which they’ll raiſe great armies
Their purpoſe to purſue,
Yet thoſe you know are maintained,
By virtue of the plow.
Tho’ Samſon was a ſtrong man
And Solomon was wiſe,
Alexander for to conquer
Was all that he did prize.
King David he was valiant,
And many thouſands slew,
Yet none of theſe great heroes,
Can live without the plow,
You ſee the wealthy merchants
Who trades to far countries,
And ventures all their ſubſtance,
Upon the roaring ſeas,
They live like Indian princes,