"I'll speak to your father," says Dobbler,
"I'll speak to your mother, likewise;
Be a soldier instead of a cobbler,
If they do not object to my size."
O dear! O dear! & c..
Then he hastened away to the "Lion,"
Where the drum and the fife he heard played,
His fate and his fortune to try on,
For he meant to make warfare his trade.
The shilling he got in a minute,
And the standard they reached, when, O my!
It was clear there could nothing be in it,
He was just four feet ten inches high!
O dear! O dear! &c.
"Too short," says the sergeant, "by gorry!"
"I'll put on my shoes," says the snob;
"That won't do," says the sergeant, "I'm sorry,
But you're rather too short for the job."
Says Dobbler (however unwilling),
"I must give up all thoughts of the wench;"
So the sergeant and he spent the shilling.
And the cobbler still works at his bench.
O dear! O dear! &c.
Self-love is commendable! if the person possessing it be above reproach—not else.
