Ballads for little folk . ; What use is there working ? says he,And saying so, threw himself flat on the groundIn the shade of a wide-spreading tree. And this was the time, that Bartholomew Grey,Fearing bad things might come to the worst, Drew rein on Fair Fanny, the sweat wiped away,And spoke as we quoted at first. Waiting for Something to turn tip. 31 He had thought to have given the lad such a startAs would bring him at once to his feet, And he stood in the furrow, amazed, as young Bart,Lying lazy, and smiling so sweet, Replied — The world owes me a living, you see, And something, or sooner

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Ballads for little folk . ; What use is there working ? says he,And saying so, threw himself flat on the groundIn the shade of a wide-spreading tree. And this was the time, that Bartholomew Grey,Fearing bad things might come to the worst, Drew rein on Fair Fanny, the sweat wiped away,And spoke as we quoted at first. Waiting for Something to turn tip. 31 He had thought to have given the lad such a startAs would bring him at once to his feet, And he stood in the furrow, amazed, as young Bart,Lying lazy, and smiling so sweet, Replied — The world owes me a living, you see, And something, or sooner or late,Im certain as can be, will turn up for me, And I am contented to wait! My son, says the farmer, take this to your heart,For to live in the world is to learn,The good things that turn up are for the most partThe things we ourselves help to turn ! So boy, if you want to be sure of your breadEre the good time of working is gone,Brush the cobwebs of nonsense all out of your head,And take up your hoe, and move on !.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildre, bookyear1874