Quotes from Isaac Bickerstaffe

The greatness that would make us grave, Is but an empty thing. What more than mirth would mortals have? The cheerful man's a king.

Hope! thou nurse of young desire.

How happy is the sailor's life, from coast to coast to roam; in every port he finds a wife, in every land a home.

Tis a sure sign work goes on merrily, when folks sing at it.

There was a jolly miller onceLived on the River Dee;He worked and sang from morn till nightNo lark more blithe than he.

And this the burthen of his songForever used to be,"I care for nobody, not I,If no one cares for me."