I like bananas a bunch

You sir, have the sole of a poet.

Not to say that we hope you breathe your last.

COBBLING VERSE: SHOEMAKER POETS OF THE LONG EIGHTEENTH CENTURY on JSTOR

When Willie Shoemaker needs leather, he doesn’t horse around.

What a load of cobblers.

Ooh, now that we’re all well shod, I like peaches in mine.

Whew, is this thread laced with puns!

With puns as thick as flies, I could shoe them for hours.

Good plan as they may all be into discalced sects.

When guys talk about make-up sects, it’s a put-on.

You won’t find any coal workers who practice Scientology. That’s because sects with miners is illegal.

That’s no biggie, just a miner distraction.

I don’t like those miner helmets, they make me feel lightheaded.

Too many striking coal workers on the platform gave way to a miner falling out.

My grandfather could dig more coal in a shift than anyone else. He was a major miner.

I’m considering getting into the steel mining business; I just need to iron out the details.

My granddad was notorious for robbing moonshiners. He’s slowed down now, but he still steals steel stills.

I have to ask: whatcha gonna do with all that 'dew?

Does he slug down mugs of suds with a few 'dew?

When it comes to suds, call me Casey Jones, 'cause I keep on chugging.