Lyrics:
(twine)
Warm firesides, paperbacks, cherry cobbler (Mm)
All of it is weaved into that shine
Wait, so you made all of these?
Yeah, I did
It's pretty easy
If it ain't broke don't fix it
Unless it's on fire just leave alone
Don't want to see no tinkering
Or it all might come tumbling down
The cobbler's
You are to imagine, imagine if you will
A humble cobbler
An industrious chap, worked hard all his life
Takes time off in the tavern, never quite
Thought I was done with her, now I'm back on it
Other wanna kill my kids, finna be a father
Blonde like to cook, whipping up a cobbler
She the type, pick up
meringue and sift,
Knead, flute and flour,
Each Thursday for an hour.
Cobblers and plum cakes, tarts savory and sweet,
A candymaker's knife in my
a doctor (yeah)
On Sunday I'm burnin' Peach Cobbler (yeah)
Vegan, I ate a falafe (yeah)
Ice on my neck and my goggles (yeah)
I'm on this hybrid,
the cobbler’s shop
The monkey chased the weasel
The cat thought, ‘twas all in fun
Pop! Goes the weasel
A penny for a spool of thread
A penny for a needle
That’s
Adams, but Mr. Adams
I cannot write with any style or proper etiquette
I don't know a participle from a predicate
I am just a simple cobbler from
sparkled with glee
And rainbow lips that smiled up at me
(chorus)
Oh tell me where he roams
The cobbler
Light of good hope
The cobbler
Say hello
A rag for an apron!
A petticoat of roughest cloth
A hood for a handkerchief
For shoes, a roof-tile
A cobbler's last for the heel"
driveway?
Hay in the pasture?
Did your mama make cobbler?
Did your daddy drive a tractor?
Girl, you talk a lot like East Tennessee
Well, wherever you're
sitting in the white sand
Think we're in for a big surprise
Right between the eyes
"Die," said the General
"Cobblers," said the man
So the Pentagon
the white sand
Think we're in for a big surprise
Right between the eyes
"Die," said the General
"Cobblers," said the man
So the Pentagon sent
Like peach cobbler in my stomach when I eat it up (come on)
Got your legs around my neck so I can't get up
See, them boys 112, we from the A, A! (ATL)
Funny thing about the apple
The peach is sweet, but ain't the same
The pear compares, but that's natural
This ain't no cobbler or meringue
You
Oh, me name is Dick Darby, I'm a cobbler
I served my time at ould camp
Some call me an old agitator
But now I'm resolved to repent
With me
on
Got no shoes to put on
So off to the cobbler she did go
Fast as she could run
And she bought him a pair of the finest there
And the soldier put them
homemade baked biscuits
The land of classical Caprices and Impala Super Sports
Ingredients in the peach cobbler called Georgia
I love the women out in
'Round and 'round the cobbler's bench
The monkey chased the weasel,
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun
Pop! Goes the weasel
A penny for
homemade baked biscuits
The land of classical Caprices and Impala Super Sports
Ingredients in the peach cobbler called Georgia
I love the women out in
creep silent
Move light, walk, step, talk, squeak, holla
(I hear 'em)
Pull a tool, nigga sweet like peach cobbler
Shoot twice, don't check
Let them people
cobbler in my stomach when I eat it up
Got your legs around my neck so I can't get up
See them boys 112 we from the A (A)
And when it comes to eatin'
Oh, me name is Dick Darby, I'm a cobbler
I served my time at ould camp
Some call me an old agitator
But now I'm resolved to repent
With me
heart
But of all the tales she tells
The Kentiston Cobbler
Winks over my shoulder and bids
Me a fond farewell
But be forewarned!
In Camden Town!
Over
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