I'm a poor wandering fellow, my name it is Jack.
No shoes on my feet, scarcely a rag to my back.
My belly is empty, my feet they are sore,
Won't you buy a case of needles from Jack that's so poor.

Needle cases, won't you buy one?
You can buy one, I'm sure.
Won't you buy a case of needles
From Jack that's so poor?

I once had a table all covered with good food;
Overeating and drinking and all that was good.
But now I've no table, no food and all that,
I'm forced to find a crumb in the brim of my hat.

I once was a farmer and followed the plough;
Don't you think I'm a charmer, just look at me now:
All covered in rags, from my bottom to my top.
Don't you think that I've become a poor wandering rag shop?

So if you won't buy one, I shall take my leave.
But to leave such good company, it does my heart grieve.
To leave you, to leave you—but if I should come back,
Won't you buy a case of needles from a poor wandering Jack?

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