HE TRIBU N E.

THE LAY OF THE LaBoRER.


BY THOMAS HOOD.
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III G u ~ Il 81 ~ -
THE LAY OF THE LaBoRER.


By THOMAS HOOD.
A SPADE a rake! hoe.


A pickax, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or sy the 10 now,


A flail, or wnas ye will
And here 8 ready hand


To ply the neediul tool,
And skilled enough, by lessons rougs,
In Labor's rugged school.
To hedge, or dig the ditch,


To iop or fell the tree,
To lay ths swarth on the sultry field,
Or plough the stubborn lea;
The harvest stack 10 bind,


The wheaton rick to thatch,
And never fear 10 my pouch 10 find
The tiader or the match.
To flaming barn or farm


my fancies never roam;
The FIRE yearn 10 kindIe and burn


L. on the hearth OF Home;
Where children huddle and crouch
Through dark. long wirter days,
Where starving children huddle and crouch
To see the cheerful rays,
Agiowing on the haggard cheek,


And not in the hasgard's bleze!
To Him who sends drought


To parch the fields foriorn,
The rain to food the meadows with mud,
Tho blight 10 blast rhe corn,
To Him Ilesve TO guide


The bolt in It's crooked path,
To strike the miser's rick, and show
The skies blooa-red with wrath.
A spade! rake! hoe.


A pickaI, or bill!
A hook 10 reap, or sythe 10 NOW,
A fail, or whatye will
The corn 10 thrash, or the hedge to plash,
The market team 10 drive,
Or mend the fence by tho cover side,
And leave the game alive.
Ay, only give me work,


And then you nsed not fear
That shall snare MS worship's hare,
Or kill his grace's deer;
Break into h,s lordship's house,


To steal the plate So rich;
Or leave the ye0man that had purse
To weller IN ditch.
Wherever Nature needs,


Wherever Labor calls,
No lob I'll shirk OF the hardest work,
TO shua The woIknouse walls;
Where savage laws begrCdge


The pauper babe It's breath,
And doom a wife 10 Widows life,
Before her partners death.
My only cain is this,


With labor stlff and ssork,
BY lawful turn, KY livng 10 earn,
Between ,hs ngnt and dark;
My daily bread, and nightly bed,
NV bacon, and drop OF beer
But all from The hand that holds The land,
And none from the overseer!
No parish money, or loaf,


Noipauper badges for me,
A sou of the soil, by right Of toll,
En,iIied 10 my lee.
No slms ask, give me my task:
Here are the arm, the leg,
The strength, the sinews OF man,
To work, and not 10 beg.
Still one of Adams heirs,
Though doomed BY chance OF birth
To dress SO mean, and 10 eat the lean,
Instead OF The fat of the earth;
To make such humble meals
AS honest labor can,
A bone and crost, with grace to God,
And iittie thanks TO man!
A spade. rake. hoe.


A pickax, or bull.
A hook TO reap. or sy,he TO NOW,
A fail, or what We will
Whatever The tool to ply,


Here is willing drudge,
With muscle and limb, aud woe TO him
Who does their pay bsgrudge.
Who every weekly score


Docks Labor's little mite,
Besiows on The poor al the temple door,
But robbed them over night.
The very shilling he hoped to save,
As health ard morals fail,
Shall visit me in the New Bastile,
The Spiial, or the Jail