  All along the cobblestones by Saint Paul’s, Clippety-clack the music runs, quick footfalls, Folk that go a-hurrying, all on business bent, They’ll come to us in time, and we are content. So we keep our cobble-shop, by Saint Paul’s Hammer-stroke and wax-thread, chasing up the awls, Cobbling is a merry trade,—we’ll not change with you, We’ve leather good cheap, and all we can do!
|
|
