If you had taken off the shoe then, at length you would feel in
what part it pinched you.
read more

If you had taken off the shoe then, at length you would feel in
what part it pinched you.
[Lat., Si calceum induisses, tum demum sentires qua parte te
urgeret.]

The fairy stitching gleams
On the sides and in the seams,
And it shows
read more

The fairy stitching gleams
On the sides and in the seams,
And it shows
That Pixies were the wags
Who tipped these funny tags
And these toes.

. . . 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."

Shoemaker, stick to your last.
[Lat., Ne supra crepidam judicaret.]

Shoemaker, stick to your last.
[Lat., Ne supra crepidam judicaret.]

Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet
Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet;
Should read more

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.

I was not made of common calf,
Nor ever meant for country loon;
If with an axe read more

I was not made of common calf,
Nor ever meant for country loon;
If with an axe I seem cut out,
The workman was no cobbling clown;
A good jack boot with double sole he made,
To roam the woods, or through the rivers wade.

Hans Grovendraad, an honest clown,
By cobbling in his native town,
Had earned a living ever.
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Hans Grovendraad, an honest clown,
By cobbling in his native town,
Had earned a living ever.
His work was strong and clean and fine,
And none who served at Crispin's shrine
Was at his trade more clever.

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.

The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.

The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.