Acres of Your Own

HERE'S the road to independence !
Who would bow and dance attendance ?
Who, with e'er a spark of pride,
While the bush is wild and wide,
Would be but a hanger-on,
Begging favours from a throne,
While beneath yon smiling sun
Farms, by labour, can be won ?
Up ! be stirring, be alive,
Get upon a farm and thrive !
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own !

Tho' the cabin's walls are bare,
What of that, if love is there ?
What although your back is bent,
There are none to hound for rent ;
What tho' you must chip and plough,
None dare ask, " What doest thou ? "
What though homespun be your coat,
Kings might envy you your lot!
Up ! be stirring, be alive,
Get upon a farm and thrive !
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own !

Honest labour thou would'st shirk —
Thou art far too good to work ?
Such gentility's a fudge,
True men all must toil and drudge.
Nature's true Nobility
Scorns such mock gentility ;
Fools but talk of blood and birth —
Ev'ry man must prove his worth !
Up ! be stirring, be alive,
Get upon a farm and thrive !
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own !