Nor at the forge, nor at the baker's shop,
Nor to the doctor while she lay abed
Sick, and he crept upstairs to share her broth.

_M._ Well, well, you were my youngest, and, what's more
Your father loved to hear you sing--he did,
Although, good man, he could not tell one tune
From the other.

_F._ No, he got his voice from you:
Do use it, George, and send the child to sleep.

_G._ What must I sing?

_F._ The ballad of the man
That is so shy he cannot speak his mind.

_G._ Ay, of the purple grapes and crimson leaves;
But, mother, put your shawl and bonnet off.
And, Frances, lass, I brought some cresses in:
Just wash them, toast the bacon, break some eggs,
And let's to supper shortly.

[_Sings._]

My neighbor White--we met to-day--
He always had a cheerful way,
As if he breathed at ease;
My neighbor White lives down the glade,
And I live higher, in the shade