Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet
Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet;
Should the big last extend the shoe too wide,
Each stone will wrench the unwary step aside;
The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein,
The cracking joint unhinge, or ankle sprain;
And when too short the modish shoes are worn,
You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
As he cobbled and hammered from morning till dark,
With the footgear to mend on his knees,
read more
As he cobbled and hammered from morning till dark,
With the footgear to mend on his knees,
Stitching patches, or pegging on soles as he sang,
Out of tune, ancient catches and glees.
. . . And holding out his shoe, asked them whether it was not new and
well made. "Yet," read more
. . . And holding out his shoe, asked them whether it was not new and
well made. "Yet," added he, "none of you can tell where it
pinches me."
Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.
Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.
Shoemaker, stick to your last.
[Lat., Ne supra crepidam judicaret.]
Shoemaker, stick to your last.
[Lat., Ne supra crepidam judicaret.]
Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather.
[Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]
Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather.
[Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]
When we see a man with bad shoes, we say it is no wonder, if he
is a shoemaker.
read more
When we see a man with bad shoes, we say it is no wonder, if he
is a shoemaker.
[Fr., Quand nous veoyons un homme mal chausse, nous disons que ce
n'est pas merveille, s'il est chausstier.]
The title of Ultracrepidarian critics has been given to those
persons who find fault with small and insignificant details.
The title of Ultracrepidarian critics has been given to those
persons who find fault with small and insignificant details.
The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.
The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.
Oh, where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
For her feet?
You lucky read more
Oh, where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
For her feet?
You lucky little kid,
You perished, so you did,
For my sweet.
