I was not made of common calf,
Nor ever meant for country loon;
If with an axe read more

I was not made of common calf,
Nor ever meant for country loon;
If with an axe I seem cut out,
The workman was no cobbling clown;
A good jack boot with double sole he made,
To roam the woods, or through the rivers wade.

The fairy stitching gleams
On the sides and in the seams,
And it shows
read more

The fairy stitching gleams
On the sides and in the seams,
And it shows
That Pixies were the wags
Who tipped these funny tags
And these toes.

The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.

The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.

Marry because you have drank with the king,
And the king hath so graciously pledged you,
You read more

Marry because you have drank with the king,
And the king hath so graciously pledged you,
You shall no more be called shoemakers.
But you and yours to the world's end
Shall be called the trade of the gentle craft.

Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather.
[Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]

Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather.
[Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]

But from the hoop's bewitching round,
He very shoe has power to wound.

But from the hoop's bewitching round,
He very shoe has power to wound.

The title of Ultracrepidarian critics has been given to those
persons who find fault with small and insignificant details.

The title of Ultracrepidarian critics has been given to those
persons who find fault with small and insignificant details.

Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet
Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet;
Should read more

Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet
Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet;
Should the big last extend the shoe too wide,
Each stone will wrench the unwary step aside;
The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein,
The cracking joint unhinge, or ankle sprain;
And when too short the modish shoes are worn,
You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.

Oh, where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
For her feet?
You lucky read more

Oh, where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
For her feet?
You lucky little kid,
You perished, so you did,
For my sweet.