Classic Poem

Here is a Tinker full of mettle,
The which can mend pot, pan, or Kettle;
For stopping of holes is his delight,
His work goes forward day and night.
If there be any women brave
Whose Coldrons need of mending have,
Send for this Tinker, nere deny him,
He'l do your work well if you try him.
A proof of him I'le forthwith show.
'Cause you his workmanship may know.

It was a Lady of the North she lov'd a Gentleman,
And knew not well what course to take, to use him now and than.
Wherefore she writ a Letter, and seal'd it with her hand,
And bid him be a Tinker, to mend both pot and pan.
With a hey ho, hey, derry derry down; with hey trey, down, down, derry.

And when the merry Gentleman the Letter he did read,
He got a budget on his back, and Apron, with all speed,
His pretty shears and pincers, so well they did agree;
With a long pike staff upon his back came tripping o're the Lee.

When he came to the Ladye's house he knocked at the gate;
Then answered this Lady gay, Who knocketh there so late?
'Tis I, Madam, the Tinker said, I work for gold and fee;
If you have any broken pots or pans, come bring them all to me.

I am the bravest Tinker that lives beneath the Sun;
If you have any work to do, you shall have it well done;
I have brasse within my budget, and punching under my Apron;
I'm come unto your Ladyship and means to mend your Coldron.

I prethee, said the Lady gay, bring now thy budget in;
I have store of work for thee to do if thou wilt once begin.
Now when the Tinker he came, that did the budget bear,
God blesse, quoth he, your Ladyship! God save you, Madam fair.

But when the Lady knew his face she then began to wink;
Hast, lusty Butler! then quoth she, to fetch the man some drink.
Give him such meat as we do eat, and drink as we do use,
It is not for a Tinker's Trad[e] good liquor to refuse.

But when that he had eat and drunk, the truth of all is so,
The Lady took him by the sleeve, her work to him to show:
Let up thy Tools, Tinker, quoth she, and see there be none lost;
And mend my Kettle handsomely, what ere it doth me cost.

Your work, Madam, shall be well done, if you will pay me for 't;
For every nayl that I do drive, you shall give me a mark.
If I do not drive the nayl to th' head, I'le have nothing for my pain;
And what I do receive of you shall be return'd again.

At last being come into the Room where he the work should do,
The Lady lay down on the bed, so did the Tinker too;
Although the Tinker knockt amain, the Lady was not offended;
But before that she rose from the bed her Coldron was well mended.

But when his work was at an end, which he did in the dark,
She put her hand into her purse and gave him twenty mark;
Here 's mony for thy work, said she, and I thank thee for thy pain,
And when my Coldron mending lacks I'le send for thee again.

The Tinker he was well content for that which he had done,
So took his budget on his back and quickly he was gone.
Then the Lady to her husband wet; O my dear Lord, quoth she,
I have set the bravest Tinker at work that ever you did see.

No fault at all this Tinker hath, but he takes dear for his work,
That little time that he wrought here it cost me twenty mark.
If you had been so wise, quoth he, for to have held your own,
Before you set him to this work the price you might have known.

Pray hold your peace, my Lord, quoth she, and think it not too dear;
If you cou'd doo 't so well 'twould save you forty pound a year.
With that the Lord most lovingly, to make all things amends,
He kindly kist his Lady gay, and so they both were friends.

You merry Tinkers, every one, that hear this new-made Sonnet,
When as you do a Lady's work be sure you think upon it;
Drive home your nayls to the very head, and do your work profoundly,
And then no doubt your Mistresses will pay you for it soundly.
With hey ho, hey, derry derry down; with hey trey, down down, derry.