Classic Poem

You give a gladiators' show,
Vain cobbler Kinglet, prince of leather,
A fortune to your awl you owe,
The sword destroys it altogether.

You're drunk, no sober man would skin
His pocket in this careless manner.
If you go on as you begin
You soon must be a worthless Tanner.

I hope your foolish whim is past;
Here's my advice, if you will take it;
Retrench — the chance may be your last,
No prudent cobbler should forsake it.