I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon,
From the rise of sun to the set of moon;
Cobble and cobble as best I may,
Cobble all night and cobble all day.
And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay:
The stouter I cobble the less I earn,
For the soles never crack nor the uppers turn,
The better my work, the less my pay,
But work can only be done one way.
And as I cobble with needle and thread,
I judge the world by the way they tread:
Heels worn thick and soles worn thin,
Toes turned out and toes turned in.
There's food for thought in a sandal skin.
For prince and commoner poor and rich
Stand in need of the cobbler's stitch.
Why then worry what lies before,
Hangs this life by a thread no more.
I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon,
From the rise of sun to the set of moon;
Cobble and cobble as best I may,
Cobble all night and cobble all day.
And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay: