I’m thinking, wife, of neighbor Jones, the man with the stalwart arm— He lives in peace and plenty on a forty-acre farm; When men are all around us with hearts and hands a-sore, Who own two hundred acres, ?and still are wanting more.
He has a pretty little farm, a pretty little house j He has a loving wife within, as quiet as a mouse ; His children play around the door, their father’s heart to charm, Looking just as neat and tidy as the tidy little farm.
No weeds are in the cornfield, no thistles in the oats; The horses show good keeping by their fine and glossy coats; The cows within the meadow, resting ’neath the beechen shade, Learn all their gentle manner from a gentle milking maid.
Within the field on Saturday, he leaves no cradled grain To be gathered on the morrow for fear of coming rain ; He lives in joy and gladness, and happy are his days; He keeps the Sabbath holy; his children learn his ways. He never had a lawsuit to take him to the town, For the very simple reason there are no fences down; The bar-room in the village forjhim has not a charm; I can always,find my neighbor'on’his fortyacre farm.
His acres are so few that he ploughs them very deep; ’Tis his own hands that turn the sod, ’tis his own hands that reap ; He has a place for everything, and everything in its place; The snnshine smiles upon his Helds, contentment on his face. J
May we not learn a lesson, wife, from] prudent neighbor Jones, And not sigh for what we haven’t got—give vent to sighs and groans ? Thfe rich arn’t always happy, nor free from life’s alarms, But blest be those who live small may be’their|farms.
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NEIGHBOR JONES., Ashburton Guardian, Volume 1, Issue 105, 27 May 1880, Supplement
NEIGHBOR JONES. Ashburton Guardian, Volume 1, Issue 105, 27 May 1880, Supplement
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