Song-In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer

Tune-"Go from my window, Love, do."

      The sun he is sunk in the west,      All creatures retired to rest,      While here I sit, all sore beset,      With sorrow, grief, and woe:      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       The prosperous man is asleep,      Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;      But Misery and I must watch      The surly tempest blow:      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       There lies the dear partner of my breast;      Her cares for a moment at rest:      Must I see thee, my youthful pride,      Thus brought so very low!      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       There lie my sweet babies in her arms;      No anxious fear their little hearts alarms;      But for their sake my heart does ache,      With many a bitter throe:      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       I once was by Fortune carest:      I once could relieve the distrest:      Now life's poor support, hardly earn'd      My fate will scarce bestow:      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       No comfort, no comfort I have!      How welcome to me were the grave!      But then my wife and children dear-      O, wither would they go!      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!       O whither, O whither shall I turn!      All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!      For, in this world, Rest or Peace      I never more shall know!      And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!