Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/On a Cobbler
On a Cobbler.
Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand,
And always found him on the mending hand.
At last came death in very dirty weather,
And ripped the sole from off the upper leather.
Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?
The cobbler called for's awl, Death brought his last.
And always found him on the mending hand.
At last came death in very dirty weather,
And ripped the sole from off the upper leather.
Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?
The cobbler called for's awl, Death brought his last.