TINSMITH'S SONG.

What though our bench labor rob us of the favor

Enjoyed by the farmer,‘ midst fair Country scenes;

What though‘ tis confining to make up tins shining,

There's naught in the trade which our conduct demeans,

Then ply the shears, since it appears

That our calling is honest and fair;

Yet take good heed, lest, in our speed,

We should send from our hands leaky ware!

In using the folder we then may grow bolder,

And form and groove pans with our consciences clear;

Drive each of the turners with skill beyond learners,

And put in stout wire with our hearts full of cheer.

Then take a burr and make it whirr,

As the bottoms spin round like a “top;”

And fit these tight, which is but right

If we wish a good name for the shop.

In this case the setter will do the work better,

And strong double seams will repay all our pains;

But slight not the soldering, or customers ordering

Their work at our hands will begrudge us our gains.

This we can do and yet push through

Quite a good share of labor each day,

And in our sales of pans or pails

Boldly ask those who buy for our pay.

We thus may be working, no selfishness lurking

Within, though the weather be cloudy or cold;

And lawfully striving our trade still be driving

From far better motives than mere thirst for gold.

Then we may serve and never swerve

From strict duty's plain, straightforward path,

Our country's weal with fervid zeal

By skill which each artisan hath.

O! then our bench labor may bring us the favor

Of a jaunt now and then midst the forests and fields,

Which pleasure so joyous can never annoy us,

If health and contentment it constantly yields.

Then ply the shears, since it appears

That our calling is honest and fair;

Yet take good heed lest in our speed.

We should send from our hands leaky ware.