Kail Yard Bard

A very humble pen I ply

Beneath a cottage thatch;

And in the sunny hours I try

To till my cabbage patch;

And in the gloaming glad am I

To lift the latch.



I do not plot to pile up pelf,

With jowl and belly fat;

To simple song I give myself,

And seek no gain at that:

Content if milk is on the shelf

To feed the cat.



I joy that haleness I possess,

Though fame has passed me by;

And see such gold of happiness

A-shining in the sky,

I wonder who has won success,

Proud men or I?



I do not grieve that I am poor,

And by the world unknown;

Free as the wind, serene and sure,

In peace I live alone.

'Tis better to be bard obscure

Than King on Throne.