Classic Poem

I lived in a wood for a number of years
With my dog and my gun for to drive away all fears;
I've a neat little cottage and the roof it is secure,
And if you look underneath you'll find ground for the floor.

Ground for the floor, ground for the floor,
I've a neat little cottage and it's ground for the floor.

My cottage is surrounded with brambles and thorn,
And so sweet are the notes of the birds in the morn;
It's a neat little cottage, and the roof it is secure,
And if you look underneath you'll find ground for the floor.

As for grate I have none, for my fire's on the ground,
As for chairs I have none, for to sit myself down;
I've a three-legged stool, that's my chiefest of store,
And a neat little cottage that's ground for the floor.

My bed is made of straw, my poor limbs to repose,
I've nothing to cover me, or to keep me from the cold,
But I've a guinea in my pocket, and many others in store,
And a neat little cottage that's ground for the floor.

God bless my old father, he's dead and he's gone,
I hope he's safe in heaven, and never to return;
He's left me all his riches that he heaped in store,
And a neat little cottage that's ground for the floor.