 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
44
THE TAILOR FELL THRO' THE BED
I
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a',The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a';
The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma'—
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'!
II
The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill,The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay till:
She thought that a tailor could do her nae ill!
III
Gie me the groat again, cannie young man!Gie me the groat again, cannie young man!
The day it is short, and the night it is lang—
The dearest siller that ever I wan!
IV
There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane,There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane!
There's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fain
To see the bit tailor come skippin again.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |