Happy The Lab'Rer

by Jane Austen

Happy The Lab'Rer

Happy the lab'rer in his Sunday clothes!

In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn'd hose,

Andhat upon his head, to church he goes;

As oft, with conscious pride, he downward throws

A glance upon the ample cabbage rose

That, stuck in button-hole, regales his nose,

He envies not the gayest London beaux.

In church he takes his seat among the rows,

Pays to the place the reverence he owes,

Likes best the prayers whose meaning least he knows,

Lists to the sermon in a softening doze,

And rouses joyous at the welcome close. 

When Winchester Races 

When Winchester races first took their beginning

It is said the good people forgot their old Saint

Not applying at all for the leave of Saint Swithin

And that William of Wykeham's approval was faint. 

The races however were fixed and determined

The company came and the Weather was charming

The Lords and the Ladies were satine'd and ermined

And nobody saw any future alarming.-- 

But when the old Saint was informed of these doings

He made but one Spring from his Shrine to the Roof

Of the Palace which now lies so sadly in ruins

And then he addressed them all standing aloof. 

'Oh! subjects rebellious! Oh Venta depraved

When once we are buried you think we are gone

But behold me immortal! By vice you're enslaved

You have sinned and must suffer, ten farther he said 

These races and revels and dissolute measures

With which you're debasing a neighboring Plain

Let them stand--You shall meet with your curse in your pleasures

Set off for your course, I'll pursue with my rain.