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!