We danced to the band with that curious tone,
Of the cornet, clarinet and big trom-bone,
Fiddle 'cello, big bass drum,
Bassoon, flute and euphonium,
Each one making the most of his chance,
Altogether in the Floral dance.
Dancing here, prancing there,
Jigging, jogging ev'ry where,
Up and down, and round the town, Hur-rah for the Cornish Floral dance.
61—UP FROM SOMERSET
For we'm come up from Somerset,
Where the cider apples grow,
For we're all King's men in Somerset,
As we were long, long ago.
An' when you're wanting soger boys,
An' there's fighting for to do,
You just send word to Somerset
An' we'll all be up for you!
62—THE COBBLER'S SONG (Chu Chin Chow)
I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon,
From the rise of sun to the set of moon;
Cobble and cobble as best I may,
Cobble all night and cobble all day,
And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay;—
The stouter I cobble the less I earn,
For the soles ne'er crack nor the uppers turn,
The better my work the less my pay,
But the work can only be done one way.
And as I cobble with needle and thread,
I judge the world by the way they tread;
Heels worn thick and soles worn thin,
Toes turned out and toes turned in
There's food for thought in sandal skin,
For prince and commoner, poor and rich,
Stand in need of the cobbler's stitch.
Why then worry what lies before,
Hangs this life by a thread no more.
I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon,
From the rise of sun to the set of moon;
Cobble and cobble as best I may,
Cobble all night and cobble all day,
And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay.
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