Classic Poem

A tinker I am,
My name's Natty Sam,
From morn to night I trudge it;
So low is my fate,
My personal estate
Lies all within this budget.

Work for the tinker ho, good wives,
For they are lads of mettle —
'Twere well if you could mend your lives,
As I can mend a kettle.

II.

The man of war,
The man of the bar,
Physicians, priests, free-thinkers,
That rove up and down
Great London town,
What are they all but tinkers?

Work for the tinker, &c.

III.

'Those 'mong the great
Who tinker the state,
And badger the minority,
Pray what's the end
Of their work my friend,
But to rivet a good majority?

Work for the tinker, &c.

IV.

This mends his name,
That cobbles his fame,
That tinkers his reputation:
And thus, had I time,
I could prove in my rhyme,
Jolly tinkers of all the nation.

Work for the tinker, &c.