Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/On a Cobbler
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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.