| |
| A TAILOR ’gan to wander | |
| One Monday morning fair, | |
| And then he met the devil, | |
| Whose feet and legs were bare: | |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | 5 |
| Come now with me to hell—oh, | |
| And measure clothes for us to wear, | |
| For what you will is well, oh!” | |
| |
| The tailor measured, then he took | |
| His scissors long and clipped | 10 |
| The devils’ little tails all off, | |
| And to and fro they skipped. | |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | |
| Now hie thee out of hell—oh, | |
| We do not need this clipping, sir: | 15 |
| What you will is not well, oh!” | |
| |
| The tailor took his iron out, | |
| And tossed it in the fire; | |
| The devils’ wrinkles then he pressed; | |
| Their screams were something dire: | 20 |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | |
| Now get thee out of hell—oh, | |
| We do not need this pressing, | |
| What you will is not well, oh!” | |
| |
| “Keep still!” he said, and pierced their heads | 25 |
| With a bodkin from his sack. | |
| “This way we put the buttons on, | |
| For that’s our tailor’s knack!” | |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | |
| Now hie thee out of hell—oh, | 30 |
| We do not need this dressing: | |
| What you will is not well, oh!” | |
| |
| With thimble and with needle then | |
| His stitching he began, | |
| And closed the devils’ nostrils up | 35 |
| As tightly as one can. | |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | |
| Now hie thee out of hell—oh, | |
| We cannot use our noses, | |
| Do what we will for smell, oh!” | 40 |
| |
| Then he began to cut away— | |
| It must have made them smart— | |
| With all his might the tailor ripped | |
| The devils’ ears apart: | |
| “Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | 45 |
| Now march away from hell—oh, | |
| We else should need a Doctor, | |
| If what you will were well—oh!” | |
| |
| And last of all came Lucifer | |
| And cried: “What horror fell! | 50 |
| No devil has his little tail; | |
| So drive him out of hell: | |
| Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, | |
| Now hie thee out of hell—oh, | |
| We need to wear no clothes at all— | 55 |
| What you will is not well, oh!” | |
| |
| And when the tailor’s sack was packed, | |
| He felt so very well—oh! | |
| He hopped and skipped without dismay | |
| And had a laughing spell—oh! | 60 |
| And hurried out of hell—oh! | |
| And stayed a tailor-fellow; | |
| And the devil will catch no tailor now, | |
| Let him steal, as he will—it is well, though! | |
| |
