The Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk

A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, / Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; / Short clad and light, with speed she went, / Not fearing any accident; / Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, / Her dress that day, / The truth to say, / Was simple petticoat and slipper. / And, thus bedight, / Good Peggy, light, -- / Her gains already counted, -- / Laid out the cash / At single dash, / Which to a hundred eggs amounted. / Three nests she made, / Which, by the aid / Of diligence and care were hatch'd. / 'To raise the chicks, / I'll easy fix,' / Said she, 'beside our cottage thatch'd. / The fox must get / More cunning yet, / Or leave enough to buy a pig. / With little care / And any fare, / He'll grow quite fat and big; / And then the price / Will be so nice, / For which, the pork will sell! / 'Twill go quite hard / But in our yard / I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell -- / A calf to frisk among the flock! ' / The thought made Peggy do the same; / And down at once the milk-pot came, / And perish'd with the shock. / Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! / Your mistress' face is sad to view; / She gives a tear to fortune spilt; / Then with the downcast look of guilt / Home to her husband empty goes, / Somewhat in danger of his blows.

Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air / His cots, or seats, or castles fair? / From kings to dairy women, -- all, -- / The wise, the foolish, great and small, -- / Each thinks his waking dream the best. / Some flattering error fills the breast: / The world with all its wealth is ours, / Its honours, dames, and loveliest bowers. / Instinct with valour, when alone, / I hurl the monarch from his throne; / The people, glad to see him dead, / Elect me monarch in his stead, / And diadems rain on my head. / Some accident then calls me back, / And I'm no more than simple Jack.[1]