Bed and bread are all I need In my happy day; Love of Nature is my creed, Unto her I pray; Sun and sky my spirit feed On my happy way. To no man I bow the head, None may master me; I will eat my crust of bread Lauding liberty; And upon my truckle bed Glory to be free. You who grab for sordid gold, You who fight for fame, Shiny dross your fingers hold, Empty is your aim. —Soon we fatten graveyard mould, Rich and poor the same. So from world of want and woe I retreat with dread; Tuned to Nature glad I go With my bite of bread: Praising God I lay me low On my truckle bed.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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