The Model.

Pinted and fold by J. PITTS, 14, great St Andrew-Street, 7 Dials.

MY friend is the man I would copy thro' life
He harbours no envy he causes no strife,
No murmurs escape him tho' fortune bears hard
Content is his portion, and peace his reward.
Still happy is his station,
He minds his occupation,
Nor heeds the cares,
Nor knows the snares,
Which vice and folly brings,
Daily working wearily,
Nightly singing cheerily,
Dear to him his wife, his home, his country and
his King.

His heart is enlarged tho' his income is scant,
He lessons that little for others that want
Tho' his children dear claim on his industry press.
He has something to spare for the child of
He seeks no idle squabble, (distress,
He join no thoughtless rabble,
To clear the way,
From day to day,
His honest views extend,
When he speaks 'tis verily.
When he smiles 'tis merrily,
Dear to him his sport, his toil, his honour, and
his friend.

How charming to find, in his humble retreat,
That bless so much sought, so unknown to the
great,
The wife only anxious his fondness to prove,
The playful endearments of enfantine love :
Relaxing from his labours,
Amid his welcome neighbours,
With plain regale,
With jest and tale,
The happy pasant see,
No vain sucemes confounding him,
All his joys surrounding him,
Dear he holds his native land, its laws & liberty