My lass, when God
to suffer sent me,
no gifts he gave,
but only lent me
for gold, my breath,
for silver, labour;
the sky as a friend,
the grass as neighbour.
The Vineyard called
for workers many;
at eve I took
God's punctual penny;
Because I bowed
content, I fancy,
He gave me you
for wages, Nancy!
More verses by Norman Rowland Gale
- This Peach Is Pink With Such A Pink
- Content
- Most Anglers Are Very Humane
- A Dead Friend
- Song - Wait But A Little While