In our street, the main street Running thro' the town,
You see a lot of busy folk Going up and down:
Bag men and basket men, Men with loads of hay,
Buying things and selling things And carting things away.
The butcher is a funny man, He calls me Dandy Dick;
The baker is a cross man, I think he's often sick;
The fruiterer's a nice man, He gives me apples, too;
The grocer says, "Good morning, boy, What can I do for you?"Of all the men in our street I like the cobbler best,
Tapping, tapping at his last Without a minute's rest;
Talking all the time he taps, Driving in the nails,
Smiling with his old grey eyes - (Hush)… telling fairy tales.
