And as they forward jogg’d along,
The vicar, growing hot,
First asked the cobbler if he knew
Where they might take a pot?
Yes, marry that I do, quoth he;
Here is a house hard by,
That far exceeds all Bedfordshire
For ale and landlady.
Thither let’s go, the vicar said;
And when they thither came,
He liked the liquor wondrous well,
But better far the dame.
And she, who, like a cunning jilt,
Knew how to please her guest,
Used all her little tricks and arts
To entertain the priest.
The cobbler too, who quickly saw
The landlady’s design,
Did all that in his power was
To manage the divine.
With smutty jests and merry songs
They charm’d the vicar so,
That he determined for that night
No further he would go.
And being fixt, the cobbler thought
’Twas proper to go try
If he could get a job or two
His charges to supply.
So going out into the street,
He bawls with all his might,—
If any of you tread awry
I’m here to set you right.
I can repair your leaky boots,
And underlay your soles;
Backsliders, I can underprop
And patch up all your holes.
The vicar, who unluckily
The cobbler’s outcry heard,
From off the bench on which he sat
With mighty fury rear’d.