Hard by, a tinker’s furnace smokes,
From betwixt two pastry-cooks,
Where dingy Dick and Peggy, met,
Are at their scurvy dinner set,
Of cow-heel, and such cellar messes,
Which the splay-foot Rachael dresses;
And then in haste the shop she leaves,
And with the boy the bellows heaves;
Or if ’tis late, and shop is shut,
Scrubs at the pump her face from smut,