A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.)/Too Short for the Service
Too Short for the Service.
I'll sing you a song of a cobbler,
Who lived iii the Town of Tralee;
His name it was Anthony Dobbler,
And a very smart fellow was he.
He worked at his stall all so gaily,
He whistled and sung like a bird,
Till, poor fellow, he saw Judy Bailey,
Which altered the case, on my word.
O dear! O dear!
When Cupid once gets in the way,
Be it Dustman or Duke, Lord, Coachman or Cook,
The urchin they're bound to obey.
For now he sits glumpish and moody,
Never a whistle or song;
Can it be all Mistress Judy?
Or what upon earth can be wrong?
O some folks will say that he waited
On Judy to ask might he woo?
When sad on his ears these words grated,
"No, Anthony, that will not do."
O dear! O dear! &c
"For I love a lad who is fighting
In foreign lands, far, far away,
Who the wrongs of his country is righting,
So don't you stay longer, I pray."
"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.