University of Virginia Library

In country town,—as story goes,
There liv'd a snob,
In shop of stud & mud
Who got by cobbling up old shoes
& some new jobs
A descent livlihood

& such a one was he to laugh & joke
& drink & smoke
That folks would fill his shop at night
Merely for sake O' sport to hear the fun
But this is natural to all the craft
Those sons of wax & tallow
Plow tail mechanics took a great delight
& always joind him soon as jobs where done
For they was mighty pleas'd to see the fun
& hear the jokes
& thought him wondorous wise to other folks
For true enough he was a funny fellow
& roard out chorus'd laughs as loud as thunder
This pleasd the cobler well—but thats no wonder
For all men love most dearly to be prais'd
& so did he & while the laugh was rais'd
To keep it up—& oer & oer he told it
Good boys & hold it!
Cobbling old shoes & cutting scraps o' leather
& erst the while his hammer loudly knocking
He would repeat it twenty times together
& wonderous to tell—& faith twas shocking
To see poor John-o-nokes in corner sitting
(Care taken o' the swill tub & the trough)
So thunder struck at what the cobler sed
& had he shut his eyes they'd thought him dead
As hedging mitting
But faith such wonderous talk
No fierce grimmalkin stuck upon a fork
Ere stared half so much as did the oaf
His sparrow mouth the while out's outmost stretch
Lud what a sight! The snob him self declard to't
That tailors yard band length out woudnt reach
Horse collar!—twas a mousehole when compard tot
A quartern loaf
Or bigger thing!
Chockd at the hole wi' but a carless swing
In compas faith I tell it
Woud slipped down as easy as a pellet
Down Eldern gun
& Nokes neer known the least o' what was done
Such wonderous things his every story crownd
In every joke such fun there did abound
Not only louts that nightly came
But distant hamlets heard our coblers fame
Upon a certain day (so fate ordaind)
The common fate of all
The utmost zenith of his glory gaind
Our snob fell sick & forcd to leave his stall
Took to his bed
& soon his custom gan to take alarm
The new struck dread
His business stopping seemd a public harm
Their want o' shoes wer' bad as want o' bread
Moreover coblers all the towns around
Near turn'd work out o' hand so staunch & sound
Such leather cut & knock'd em up so stout
No slippery Jobs from him was never found
They'd wear the year about
& when In merry glee
& random shot discourse he oft exclaim
‘No man in England can a Village name
‘That boasts a work man to compare wi' me!’—
Great was his fame—a useful man no doubt
& greatly feared was the coming evil
Deaths visit (as suppos'd) was deemd unsivil
So neighbours thought
To leave so many worthless fellows out
Quite good for nought
& put our useful cobler to the rout
A doctor no[w] was evidently thought
A nessesary man—so friends agreed
& with all possible dispatch & speed
His doctorship was sought
But here the cobler harbourd different views
He knew full well—that doctors did
Profess to coble life—he cobld shoes
& tho by different methods well he knew
Docters & snobs one common aim pursues
Say what they will or do what ere they do
To him the secret was by no means hid
Money made coblers work—& doctors too
He thought em useless quite
& never cou'd be made in all his life
(Like Jealous cuckold by his wife)
To think they acted right
But what he said or did was no avail
He coudnt help himself—so friends prevail
A doctors sent for & a doctor comes
They point the way
He hams & hums
& mounts the scaffold where the cobler lay
& thus accosts in authorative tone
(They will stick up for gentlemen—its known)
‘How have you been today
‘Indeed’ & shook his head
‘You[r] pulse gives fearfull signs—I needs must own’
Snob stard him in the face & bluntly sed
‘Let me alone’—
‘Poh poh man that wornt do’ the doctor cries
Shaking his head & seeming wonderous wise
One hand the phisick holding pills in tother
& now his fees—the money filld his head
Lo! bent in hopefull posture oer his bed
Began proceed about the pills & draught
& tell the snob his patient as he thought
The pills &c how he was to take 'em
& ‘first’ says he & taking out a pill
‘You may have this directly if you will
‘One in the morning—one again at night
‘Each time between—a spoonful of the mixture No 1
‘Then No 2
‘& then youll quickly do
‘& man dont spare Ive more when these are gone
‘So take as orderd & before you take em
‘Just take the bottles up & shake em’
Take 'em yourself—thinks snob
But nothing sed
The powderd Quack—still bending oer his bed
Rather surprisd ats patients being so still
& wearied quite of holding draught & pill
To see if he was in a dose or sleep
He gave a peep
& then began again—‘I think’ says he
‘By paying no attention unto me
‘It seems as if you woudnt take my stuff’
& feth thinks coblers you think right enough
‘Indeed I shant
‘You cant
‘Perhaps you think—you never try
‘How ist you wornt?
‘If youve got any reason speak it
‘Or do you wish to dye?’—
‘No Sir I dont
‘& thats the very reason I wornt take it
‘So friend I wish you'd leave me if you please
‘A little sleep would give a little ease
‘& at this moment do a deal of good’—
—My p[h]isick wou'd’
‘Your phisic my be d---nd says enragd snob
For being in hopes that hed done teazing there
Spite of his doctor ship & powderd nob
The dissapointment made him mad to sware
‘But if’ continues he ‘you want a job
‘Your actions looks as if you did I think
‘Next door to me's a devil-of-a-wife
‘Youd use her well to dose her with a drink
‘The hen peckd husband weary of his life
‘To see her finish'd daily begs & prays
‘Your phisick is a thing thats wanted there
‘As somethings wanted that woud end her days
‘Twou'd fit him to a hair
‘Therefore I pray thee leave me here to rest
‘Take drugs & go
‘I know your presence woud be welcome there
‘& what will suit you best
‘He'll gie ye double fees for what ye do
‘With him efex the killing is no crime
‘But I dont wish to dye before my time!’
Who coud stand this—
The doctor stampt & swore
For nothing agravates a doctor more
Urging enough no doubt
To hear folks talk so lightly of his trade
& of his phisic bear no more consceit
(No hopefull fees display'd)
Then think em useless articles in trade
That might be done without
Such usefull things egad
Call phisic poison! sure the man was mad.
The quack turnd round & swore but that was all
He neer so much as stopt to make a[s]say
But instant put up drugs & whent away
Hed often start before
But hopeful half a crown
Fors journey made,
& Something more for pill
To make a Bill
The way of trade
If he could force one down
Made him in lingering mood to tarry still
But now efex his hopes to speed was oer
He stopt no more
Poison! efeth the cobler usd his aul
No clenching nail was ever tighter hit
No leather pincerd closer on his stall
Then nipping quack in hopes to bite—was bit
The friends & neighbours lookd at one another
‘How is he sir?’—we thought him very bad’
Small use to him was their enquiring bother
‘How is he’ frowns the doctor ‘why hes mad!’
Without the door stood ty'd his sorry hack
& instant mounting on his back
With hopeful smack he jossteld thro the muck
In quest O' prey & hopes O' better luck
& soon to's friends suprise snob did revive
Tho feth his 'scaping death wer' fine's a hair
& Louts well pleas'd to see the sport survive
Right merry hearted to his shop repair
& fun & laughing keeps the game alive
& oft new tales the cobler will contrive
& oft he jokes upon the droll affair