A HOLIDAY

The house is like a garden,

The children are the flowers,

The gardener should come methinks

And walk among his bowers,

Oh! lock the door on worry

And shut your cares away,

Not time of year, but love and cheer,

Will make a holiday.

Impossible! You women do not know

The toil it takes to make a business grow.

I cannot join you until very late,

So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.

The feast will be like Hamlet

Without a Hamlet part:

The home is but a house, dear,

Till you supply the heart.

The Xmas gift I long for

You need not toil to buy;

Oh! give me back one thing I lack —

The love-light in your eye.

Of course I love you, and the children too

Be sensible, my dear, it is for you

I work so hard to make my business pay.

There, now, run home, enjoy your holiday.

He does not mean to wound me,

I know his heart is kind.

Alas! that man can love us

And be so blind, so blind.

A little time for pleasure,

A little time for play;

A word to prove the life of love

And frighten Care away!

Tho’ poor my lot in some small cot

That were a holiday.

She has not meant to wound me, nor to vex —

Zounds! but‘ tis difficult to please the sex.

I've housed and gowned her like a very queen

Yet there she goes, with discontented mien.

I gave her diamonds only yesterday:

Some women are like that, do what you may.