Two Moral Songs

The Sluggard

1 'Tis the voice of the Sluggard. I heard him complain
"You have waked me too soon! I must slumber again!"
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head.

2 "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;"
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number:
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.

3 I past by his garden, and saw the wild bryar
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher:
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wasts, still he starves, or he begs.

4 I made him a visit, still hoping to find
He had took better care for improving his mind:
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking,
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.

5 Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me,"
That man's but a picture of what I might be:
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding:
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading!

Innocent Play

1 Abroad in the meadows to see the young lambs,
Run sporting about by the side of their dams
With fleeces so clean, and so white;
Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage,
When they play all in love without anger or rage,
How much may we learn from the sight!

2 If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud:
Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood;
So foul, or so fierce are their natures.
But Thomas and William, and such pretty names,
Should be cleanly and harmless as doves, or as lambs,
Those lovely sweet innocent creatures.

3 Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say,
Should injure another in jesting or play;
For he's still in earnest that's hurt.
How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and mire!
There's none but a mad-man will fling about fire,
And tell you, "`Tis all but in sport."