I rise about ten, to hear who’s alive
My breakfast I get, order dinner at five
I go out to Robert to know how my nags are
His account, though ‘tis short, pleases my ear

The boys I saw busy in shoveling the snow
To turf and coalhouses for lasses to go
I called upon James to visit the vault
And saw no bins empty, so I found no fault

The kitchen I entered and found many pies
Which Graham told me were made for the boys
I met with Jansen, he of Camden did talk
That he would beat Sargent at every stroke
We both did agree, and were not afraid,
for Camden is stout and Sargent a jade

I walked in the gallery with all my might
Came back again, and sat down to write
Til the clock it struck 4, I rose all alive
Got myself washed, clean shirt on by five
To six-year-old mutton, fat and good I sat down
for which many peers would have given a crown
Then Tom brought a moor cock, the last of this year
A bird of great flavor I hereby declare
After apples and wine appear on the table
I eat up my apples and drink whilst I’m able

Then send in for Batty to know how my stock fares
He enters with countenance all full of cares
His story is frightful, such a storm he ne’er saw
The drifts are much deeper than oldest men know
Men with shovels and spades were two hours a day
In cutting a road to come at the hay

With other dismal accounts of what has been done
Day by day since the storm first began
At last he concludes my stock are all hearty,
I’m glad for to hear; he goes to his party

I order them ale to cheer up their spirits
A quantum sufficit due to their merits
I prose on til ten, when Thomas appears
With slippers and candles to light me upstairs

I get into bed, He tucks me up tight
But seldom if ever bids me goodnight
So I sleep, slumber, and about sprawl
Til nine the next morning he gives me a call