The Cobler

A PSALM or a song-singing cobler be I, Who cares not a snap for the proudest; I joket in my stall with the girls passing by, And hammers away with the loudest; My soul's made of right honest well-wearing stuff, And my upper-leathers can't be surpass'd; As the very best tann'd hide my merry heart's tough, First of coblers, I stick to my last:

With hammer, awl, and sharp'ning hone, Wax and strap, pegs and paring-knife, Bristles, thread, and lap-stone, The cobler leads a jolly life; Singing loudly all the while, To make his work go merry, Tol de rol, lol lol lol de rol lol, And heigh down derry.

When a bachelor spruce, all the young giggish tits, With their eyes a love story would tell, Says I, that won't do girl, that shoe never fits, 'Till at last I got tack'd to my Nell: What tho'f now and then Doctor Strap gives advice, Our quarrels are unmix'd with gall; A kiss and a smile makes it up in a trice, I'm Nell's, and my Nell is my all. With hammer, &c.

I was ax'd by a master to dine at his shop, Who'd a deuce of a quarrelsome wife, Who made the house shake, aye from bottom to top, A vixen she was to the life: In her tantrums, her spouse swore he'd kick her (he was vex'd) Out of doors if no stranger was nigh; I seeing the gemman and his lady so perplex'd, Cry'd don't make a stranger of I. With hammer, &c.