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Now go those foolick Swains, the Shepherd Lads To wash the thick cloth'd flocks with pipes full glad In the cool streams they labour with delight Rubbing their dirty coats till they look white; Whose fleece when finely spun and deeply dy'd With Robes thereof Kings have been dignified, Blest rustick Swains, your pleasant quiet life, Hath envy bred in Kings that were at strife, Careless of worldly wealth you sing and pipe, Whilst they'r imbroyl'd in wars & troubles rife: Wich made great Bajazet cry out in 's woes, Oh happy shepherd which hath not to lose.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown, And as his wings increase in strength, On higher boughs he'l pearch at length. My other three, still with me nest, Untill they'r grown, then as the rest, Or here or there, they'l take their flight, As is ordain'd, so shall they light.
They'r ez hopeful ez ther Irish, same time they is a great deal closer traders. Ther stranger pays fur eny bow they make, for any smile they give. Still, they is country-loving; every one uv 'em 'r ready ter die fur ther beautiful France, 'nd ther women ez jest ez'thuseastic ez ther men. If I war young 'nd cud round up ther language a little, I'd camp heah fur six months."
I aims to write to Washington when your term is out and git you in the Service." The Judge jumped up as though he had been stung. "Bill, we been friends for twenty year, an' I'll take considerable off you, but I want you to understan' they'r a limit. You kin call me a wolf, er a Mormon, er a son-of-a-gun, but, Bill, you can't call me no Forest Ranger!
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