The Plow, Spade, and Hoe.
1. The farmer is chief of the nation,
The oldest of nobles is he;
How blest beyond others his station,
From want and from envy how free!
His patent was granted in Eden,
Long ages and ages ago;
Oh, the farmer, the farmer forever,
Three cheers for the plow, spade, and hoe.
2. In April, when nature is waking,
And bluebirds are first on the wing,
His plow now the fallows are breaking,
Whence beautiful harvest shall spring;
Then broadcast along the brown furrow,
We hasten the good seed to sow;
3. But when, in the clear Autumn weather,
He reaps the reward of his care;
So busy and joyful together,
What monarch with him can compare?
His barns running over with plenty,
His trees with their fruit bending low;
4. Then sing me the life of a farmer,
With comfort and health in his train,
And heed not the voice of the charmer,
That whispers of speedier gain;
With all the rich treasures 'tis teeming,
That heaven on man can bestow;