I

There was a jolly Cobler
Who lived in Boston Town
He work'd the Sun into the Sky
And then he work'd it down.

Chorus

With his Bristle and his Jack
His peging-awl and Strap
And his lap-stone on his Knee
Would sing so merily
While his hammer on his Stone
Went tap, tap, tap.

II

But he dispised the lazy great
As on his bench he sat
And thought his Shop a room of State
When you co'd'nt swing a Cat.

Chorus

With his Bristle &c.

III

One day came a pretty maid
And beg'd he'd tap her shoe
He brush'd his Bench sat her down
Cri'd that I'll quickly do.

Chorus

With his Bristle &c.

IV

The next day came the Parson
His forehead grim'd with Scowls
Two of a Trade can ne'er agree
For they both mended Soles.

Chorus

With his Bristle &c.