The Carpenter John Conlee

Let us now praise the carpenter and the things that he made
And the way that he lived by the tools of the trade
I can still hear his hammer singing ten-penny time
Working by the hour till the day that he died

He was tough as a crowbar, he was quick as a chisel
Fair as a plane and true as a level
He was straight as a chalk line and right as a rule
He was square with the world he took good care of his tools

He worked his hands in wood from the crib to the coffin
With a care and a love that you don't see too often
He built boats out of wood, big boats, he worked in a shipyard
Mansions on the hill and a birdhouse in the backyard