Look, here comes the Chestnut-Man smoking charcoal can!
See him swing his iron tongs, Hear him sing his pedlar-songs.
Buried deep as burrowed moles, Chestauts hide in the black hot coals Roasting, toasting, soft and sweet Baking, flaking, full of meat, Smelling, telling all the stecet Chestnuts for sale, and good to eat.
Ten round coppers will buy a lot—
Handle with care for they're piping hot Ten round coppers will buy a treat—
Tucked in the tummy, they're hard to beat, I think that even if I were King, rather eat chestnuts than anything doubt note the fact, moralizing suitably on the influence on English character of so much living in public. one
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.