Fond nymphs, from us true pleasure learn:

There is no music in a churn,

The milkmaids sing beneath the cow,

The sheep do bleat, the oxen low:

If these are comforts for a wife,

Defend, defend me from a country life.

The team comes home, the ploughman whistles,

The great dog barks, the turkey-cock bristles,

The jackdaws caw, the magpies chatter,

Quack, quack, cry the ducks that swim in the water:

If these are comforts for a wife,

Defend, defend me from a country life.

Then melancholy crows the cock,

And dull is the sound of the village clock;

The leaden hours pass slow away;

Thus yawning mortals spend the day:

If these are comforts for a wife,

Defend, defend me from a country life.