A cobbler, who had fix'd his stall
Against a nabob's palace wall,
Work'd merrily as others play,
And sung and whistled all the day.
A prey to many an anxious care,
Less merry was the lord, by far;
And often in the night he thought
It hard, sleep was not to be bought:
And if tow'rds morn he got a doze,
The cobbler troubled his repose.