The three merry Coblers,
Who tell how the case with them doth stand,
How they are still on the mending hand.
To the tune of The Spanish Gipsie.
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COme follow follow me,
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to th Alehouse weele march all three,
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Leave Aule[,] Last[,] Threed, and Lether,
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And lets goe alto[g]ether,
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Our trade excells most trades ith land,
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For we are st[il]l on the mending hand.
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Come Tapster fill us some ale,
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Then hearken to our tale,
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And try what can be made
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Of our renowned trade;
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We have Aule at our command,
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And still we are on the mending hand.
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Though Shoomakers us disdaine,
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Yet tis approved plaine,
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Our trade cannot be mist,
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Let them say what they list,
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Though all grow worse quite through the land,
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Yet we are still on the mending hand.
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When Shoomakers are decayed
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Then doe they fall to our trade,
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And glad their mindes they give
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By mending Shooes to live,
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When in necessity they stand,
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They strive to be on the mending hand.
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Although theres but few of us rich,
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Yet bravely we go thorow stich.
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Weret not for this barley broth
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(Which is meat, drinke[,] and cloth)
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We sure should purchase house and land,
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At worst we are still on the mending hand.
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We deale most uprightly,
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Our neighbours that goe awry
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We easily set upright,
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The broken we unite,
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When all men out of order stand;
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Then we are most on the mending hand:
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We cannot dissemble for treasure,
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But give every one just measure,
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If Bakers kept size like us,
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They need not be frighted thus,
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We feare not to have our doings scannd,
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For we are still on the mending hand.
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What ever we doe intend
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We bring to a perfect end.
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If any offence be past,
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We make all well at last,
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We sit at worke when others stand,
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And still we are on the mending hand.
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We bristle as well as the best,
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All knavery we doe detest,
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What we have promised
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Weele doe unto a thred,
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We use waxe, but to seale no Band,
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And still we are on the mending hand.
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Our wives doe sit at the wheele,
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They spin, and we doe reele,
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Although we take no Fa[r]mes,
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Yet we can show our armes,
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And spread them at our owne command.
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Thus still we are on the mending hand.
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The second Part. To the same Tune.
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POore weather-beaten Soles,
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Whose case the body condoles,
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We for a little gaine
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Can set on foot againe,
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We make the falling stedfast stand,
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And still we are on the mending hand.
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Youd thinke we were past sence,
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For we give pieces for pence,
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Judge, ist not very strange
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We should make such exchange,
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Yet so weele doe at your command,
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And yet weele be on the mending hand.
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Our hands doe show that we
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Live not by taking a Fee,
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We pull a living forth
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Of things but little worth,
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Our worke doth th owners understand,
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Thus still we are on the mending hand.
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All day we merrily sing,
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And Customers doe bring,
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Or unto us doe send,
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Their Boots and Shooes to mend,
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We have our money at first demand,
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Thus still we are on the mending hand.
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When all our money is spent,
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We are not discontent,
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For we can worke for more,
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And then pay off our score,
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We drinke without either bill or band,
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Because we are still on the mending hand.
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While other Callings great,
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For fraud and foule deceit,
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Are lookt unto by Law,
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We need not weight a straw,
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Our honesty spreads through the land,
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For we are still on the mending hand.
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Therefore lets be of good cheere,
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Though Lether be something deare,
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The Law some course will take
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Amends for all to make,
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And by their care we understand,
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the world is now on the mending hand,
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We pray for durty weather,
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And money to pay for Lether,
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Which if we have, and health,
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A fig for worldly wealth,
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Till men upon their heads doe stand,
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We shall be still on the mending hand.
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