| Author | Topic: Add: The Shoemakker | |
| dmcg | Posted - 07 Apr 04 - 11:15 am | |
My mother sent me to the school, To learn to be a stocking-knitter, But I went wrang and play'd the fule, And married with a shoemakker. Shoemakker, leather cracker, With all his stinking, dirty water, I wish a thousand deaths I'd died Ere I had wed a shoemakker. His hands are like a cuddy's houghs, His face is like the the high-lowed leather, His ears are like a I don't know what His hair is like a bunch of heather. Stinking kit and rotten leather, I wish a thousand deaths I'd died Ere I had wed a shoemakker. He sent me for a pint of wine, And I brought him a pint o' water, But he played me as good a trick, He made my shoes o' rotten leather. Shoemakker, leather cracker, Three rows o' rotten leather, Ball o' wax and stinking water, Who would have a shoemakker. Source: Bruce and Stokoe, Northumbrian Minstrelsy, Newcastle-Upon Tyne, 1882 (reissued Llanerch) | ||
| diane easby | Posted - 08 Apr 04 - 10:01 am | |
That wonderful, late Northumbrian piper Ron Elliott used to sing this. His daughter Nancy Kerr and her mother Sandra have recorded it together on 'Neat and Complete' (Fellside FECD 107) | ||