So have your breeches!
Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,
Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-
Road, what hard work ’tis crying all day,
“Knives and
Scissors to grind O!”
Tell me, knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives?
Did some rich man tyrannically use you?
Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?
Or the attorney?