How happy is the sailor's life, from coast to coast to roam; in every port he finds a wife, in every land a home.
There was a jolly miller once, Lived on the River Dee; He worked and sang, from morn to night; No lark so blithe as he. And this the burden of his song, Forever used to be, "I care for nobody, not I, If no one cares for me.
Tis a sure sign work goes on merrily, when folks sing at it.
Hope! thou nurse of young desire.
The greatness that would make us grave,
Is but an empty thing.
What more than mirth would mortals have?
The cheerful man's a king.
But if I'm content with a little, Enough is as good as a feast.