Joy above Wealth.

'Want was my dread, my wishes were but few; Others might doubt, but JANE those wishes knew: This Gold may rid my heart of pains and sighs; But her true love is still my greatest prize, Long as I live, when this bright day comes round, Beneath my Roof your noble deeds shall sound; But, first, to make my gratitude appear, I'll shoe your Honour's Horses for a Year; If clouds should threaten when your Corn is down, I'll lend a hand, and summon half the town; If good betide, I'll sound it in my songs, And be the first avenger of your wrongs: Though rude in manners, free I hope to live: This Ale's not mine, no Ale have I to give; Yet, Sir, though Fortune frown'd when I was born, Let's drink eternal friendship from this Horn. How much our present joy to you we owe, Soon our three Bells shall let the Neighbours know;