Jog on, Jog on12
Jog on, jog on the foot path-way,
And merrily hent the stile-a,
Your merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Your paltry money-bags of gold—
What need have we to stare for,
When little or nothing soon is told,
And we have the less to care for.
Then cast away care, let sorrow cease,
A fig for melancholy;
Let’s laugh and sing, or, if you please,
We’ll frolic with sweet Dolly.
From The Winter’s Tale.
Notes
12 First stanza by William Shakespeare. Last two stanzas by unknown author in “Antidote Against Melancholy,” 1661.