In my cottage obscure
New evils for ever I share;
Now cold, now heat I endure,
Nor am e'er free from labour and care.
But, if Phoebe's my bride,
And will all my past follies forget,
While with her I reside,
A thatch'd house will have nought to regret.
From the mead or the field,
If fatigu'd, I return, when 'tis night,
New life, new vigour, she'll yield,
New comfort and joy to my sight.
Ere the sun gilds the plains,
Or reddens the tops of the groves,
I shall charm all my pains
By singing with rapture our loves.
This version performed at the Theatre Royal in
Drury-Lane, London, as The Cunning-Man, 1766.