Summer Morn

I love to rise on a summer morn And feed the game birds old stale bread The distant hunter sounds his horn Takes sharp aim and shoots them dead Oh! What delicacy To go to work on a summer morn A job I do without a fear A calling for which I was born But for reasons still unclear Perhaps because the mines are near Ah! Then at times I drooping sit The coal mines drain me of my power Soot covers black as night I'd like to sit just one more hour But it's time for bed I'd better shower How can this little parakeet Sit in a cage and sing The creature that the gases beat And that shall soon my stomach meet What a shame but such a treat O! Father and mother when buds are nip-ped Though my strength be blown away I'll enjoy the beers I've tip-ped And think no more this weary day Work tomorrow? Oh dismay How shall the summer arise with joy Unless perhaps vacation's near A small reprieve which griefs destroy What's holding up my round of beer I hope it shows sometime this year