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Cheerly on the ax of labor Let the sunbeam dance, Better than the flash of saber Or the gleam of lance!

Cheerly, good hearts! out of our way, sirs.

He cheerly sits beside his cottage door, In the sweet light of ev’ning’s parting sun, His young ones sporting o’er the sanded floor:— What cheers the seaman, when the fight is won, And vict’ry smiles upon our naval band?

The honest Cambrians round their cyder cask, In friendship meet the moments to solace; Tell all thy worth as circles round the ask, And cheerly sing of “Shenkin’s noble race.”

Mont. Cheerly, my valiant friends! the field is ours.