The Little Cobbler

Collected by Bob Copper from a book left by John Johnson (right), 1865-1943, in Fittleworth, Sussex in about 1954: see Chapter Nine, pp. 83-9, of Songs and Southern Breezes for the details; and the appendix for these words. The photo of John Johnson at his garden date is credited to George Garland of Petworth (West Sussex). Click on the photo for a much larger one (also by George Garland, and which might have been taken around 1940) of John Johnson and his wife on their golden wedding anniversary.

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A story a story to you I will tell
Concerning of a butcher who in London did dwell;
Now this butcher was possessed of a beautiful wife,
And a cobbler he loved her dear as his life.
Chorus
Fol de riddle-i-do, fol de riddle-ay.

Now this butcher went to market to purchase an ox
And then the little cobbler as sly as any fox
Put on his Sunday clothing and a-courting he did go
To the jolly butcher's wife because he loved her so.
Chorus

And as the little cobbler stepped in the butcher's shop
The butcher's wife knew what he meant and bid him to stop.
He says, My little darling, have you got a job for me?
She, smiling, said, I'll go upstairs and see.
Chorus

She went up to the bedroom and gave the snob a call
Saying, I've got a tidy job for you if you have brought your awl,
And if you do it workmanlike some cash to you I'll pay.
I thank you, said the cobbler and began to stitch away.
Chorus

He hadn't been long at work before a knock came at the door,
The cobbler crawled beneath the bed and lay upon the floor
Lay still, said the butcher's wife, what will my husband say?
And then she let the policeman in along with her to play.
Chorus

The butcher came from market and put them in a fright,
The policeman scrambled down the stairs and soon was out of sight
The butcher's wife so nimbly did lock the bedroom door,
And in her fright she quite forgot the cobbler on the floor.
Chorus

And at night when the butcher lay down upon the bed
There's something here is very hard, unto his wife he said.
His wife said, It's my rolling pin. The butcher could but laugh
Saying, How came you to roll your dough with a policeman's staff?
Chorus

And then he threw the truncheon underneath the bed
And broke the you-know-what to bits and cracked the cobbler's head;
The cobbler called out, Murder! Said the butcher, Who are you?
I am the little cobbler that mends the ladies' shoes.
Chorus

If you are the little cobbler then come along with me,
I'll pay you out for mending shoes before I've done with thee.
So he locked him in the bullock's pen, the bull began to roar
And the butcher laughed to see the bull toss him o'er and o'er.
Chorus

And early the next morning when the people were about.
The butcher rubbed his face with blood and turned the cobbler out.
He pinned a paper to his back and on it was the news
The cobbler to the bedroom goes to mend the ladies' shoes.
Chorus

The people all were frightened, as home the cobbler ran,
His coat and breeches being torn he looked an awful sight,
His wife was amazed to see him so she shouted out, O lor!
He says, My dear, I'll never go out stitching any more.
Chorus

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