All along the cobblestones by Saint Paul's,

Clippety-clack the music runs, quick footfalls,

Folk that go a-hurrying, all on business bent,

They'll come to us in time, and we are content.

So we keep our cobble-shop, by Saint Paul's

Hammer-stroke and wax-thread, chasing up the awls,

Cobbling is a merry trade,—we'll not change with you,

We've leather good cheap, and all we can do!