Fond nymphs, from us true pleasure learn:
There is no music in a churn,
The milkmaids sing beneath the cow,
The sheep do bleat, the oxen low:
If these are comforts for a wife,
Defend, defend me from a country life.

The team comes home, the ploughman whistles,
The great dog barks, the turkey-cock bristles,
The jackdaws caw, the magpies chatter,
Quack, quack, cry the ducks that swim in the water:
If these are comforts for a wife,
Defend, defend me from a country life.

Then melancholy crows the cock,
And dull is the sound of the village clock;
The leaden hours pass slow away;
Thus yawning mortals spend the day:
If these are comforts for a wife,
Defend, defend me from a country life.