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.

A careless shoe string, in whose tie
I see a wilde civility.

A careless shoe string, in whose tie
I see a wilde civility.

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

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

. . . 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.

I can tell where my own shoe pinches me.

I can tell where my own shoe pinches me.

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.

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.