If I had all the land my zight Can overlook vrom Chalwell hill, Vrom Sherborn left to Blanvord right, Why I could be but happy still. An' I be happy wi' my spot O' freehold ground an' mossy cot, An' shoulden get a better lot If I had all my will.
My orcha'd's wide, my trees be young; An' they do bear such heavy crops, Their boughs, lik' onion-rwopes a-hung, Be all a-trigg'd to year, wi' props. I got some geärden groun' to dig, A parrock, an' a cow an' pig; I got zome cider vor to swig, An' eäle o' malt an' hops.
I'm landlord o' my little farm, I'm king 'ithin my little pleäce; I don't break laws, an' don't do harm, An' bent a-feär'd o' noo man's feäce. When I'm a-cover'd wi' my thatch, Noo man do deäre to lift my latch; Where honest han's do shut the hatch, There fear do leäve the pleäce.
My lofty elem trees do screen My brown-ruf'd house, an' here below, My geese do strut athirt the green, An' hiss an' flap their wings o' snow; As I do walk along a rank Ov apple trees, or by a bank, Or zit upon a bar or plank, To see how things do grow.
No, no! I ben't a-runnèn down The pretty maïden's o' the town, Nor wishèn o'm noo harm; But she that I would marry vu'st, To sheäre my good luck or my crust, 'S a-bred up at a farm. In town, a maïd do zee mwore life, An' I don't under-reäte her; But ten to woone the sprackest wife 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter.
Vor she do veed, wi' tender ceäre, The little woones, an' peärt their heäir, An' keep em neat an' pirty; An' keep the saucy little chaps O' bwoys in trim wi' dreats an' slaps, When they be wild an' dirty. Zoo if you'd have a bus'lèn wife, An' childern well look'd after, The maïd to help ye all drough life 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter.
An' she can iorn up an' vwold A book o' clothes wï' young or wold, An' zalt an' roll the butter; An' meäke brown bread, an' elder wine, An' zalt down meat in pans o' brine, An' do what you can put her. Zoo if you've wherewi', an' would vind A wife wo'th lookèn [=a]'ter, Goo an' get a farmer in the mind To gi'e ye his woldest d[=a]'ter.
Her heart's so innocent an' kind, She idden thoughtless, but do mind Her mother an' her duty; An' livèn blushes, that do spread Upon her healthy feäce o' red, Do heighten all her beauty; So quick's a bird, so neat's a cat, So cheerful in her neätur, The best o' maïdens to come at 'S a farmer's woldest d[=a]'ter.