The Children toppled on the green,
And bowl'd their fairings down the hill;
Richard with pride beheld the scene,
Nor could he for his life sit still.
A Father's uncheck'd feelings gave
A tenderness to all he said;
‘ My Boys, how proud am I to have
‘ My name thus round the Country spread!
‘ Through all my days I've labour'd hard,
‘ And could of pains and Crosses tell;
‘ But this is Labour's great reward,
‘ To meet ye thus, and see ye well.
‘ My good old Partner, when at home,
‘ Sometimes with wishes mingles tears;
‘ Goody, says I, let what wool come,
‘ We've nothing for them but our pray'rs.