-
Title
-
Hard working snob
-
Singer
-
Unknown
-
Song Lyrics
-
Verse 1
My name is Jim Rayner, I am a cordwainer,
And, speaking more plainer, by trade I'm a snob,
There is no bootmaker That's more wideawaker,
On that I will state half a crown to a bob;
For I stick to my tether in rough or smooth weather,
I put boots together as neat as can be,
Round toes or square toes, plump toes or spare toes,
No matter what fashion, there's none can beat me.
Chorus
With my hemp and wax, lasts and tacks, soles, heels, fronts and backs,
Six pence I charge for a four penny job;
Rap away, tap away, tap, tap, tap away,
Pleasant's the life of a hard working snob.
Verse 2
When the weather is melting, I'm into it pelting,
Stitching and welting, and pegging away,
Except there is one day, that's the day after Sunday,
Well known as Snob's Monday, when I have my way;
For I keep up my charter, but then the day arter,
I'm quickly a starter to my work once again,
But when I begin it, I sing like a linnet,
And never one minute from stitching abstain.
Verse 3
There are boots called Octonions, also Napoleans,
Likewise Wellingtonians, I'm lightning and quick;
A dabster at dubbin, and then quickly rub in,
And what will bring grub in, I work like a brick;
But there are snobs many who are not worth a penny,
Can't tell difference any between last, awl and haft;
But I'm one of those fellows, I work like old bellows,
And never feel jealous of one of my craft.