In Wheeler Gate a hand I lent
With a blunt spoke shave to the bench was sent,
E'er one day had passed I could plainly see
This was no place for me.

In Barker Gate there leather was tanned
And I hammered sheepskin with me own right hand,
But the burning gorse made such a foul reek
I were out that place in a week.

Chorus:
Unto Wheeler, Barker, Carter, Lister,
Fletcher, Fisher Gates I've strayed,
Been an arrowman, a leatherman, lace I've made
For I am a Nottingham jack of all trades.

In Carter Gate made bottles of glass
But there's hardly room for a man to pass,
For carts full of coal roll by all day,
So from there I made me way.

To Lister Gate I went after that
Carried yards of cloth to the boiling vat,
With scar and dye me hands turned blue
So I left wi'out more ado.

In Fletcher Gate, there arrows were made
And the grey goose feathers all around were laid,
They went up me nose and they made me sneeze,
I were out that place with speed.

Our pike and trout from the Trent it came
To Fisher Gate, which had no drain!
I pegged up me nose till I made it sore,
I'll never go there no more.