 | Tales, in verse and miscellaneous poems |  |
THE TAILOR TRIUMPHANT.
With all my cuts and capers;
I've fashions new, of every cue,
Cut out on shreds of papers.
'Tis mighty strange how things will change!
For sure I never dream'd on't,
To stitch or mope in country shop,
Or ever chalk a seam in't.
[Spoken.—Well, isn't it a great mark of condescension in a gentleman of my dress, figure, and appearance, to deny myself the pleasure of Stitch Street and Broker Lane, and to be slump't up with a set of clodhoppers (civilly speaking)? But I can assure you, it was merely for the discharge
Made drawers for a duchess;
Stitch'd ribbon-stars for dukes so fine,
And brac'd a maid in breeches!
I've set a button on a suit,
To grace a birth-day levee;
And cut for col'nels in the ranks,
And captains in the navy.
[Spoken.—Gentlemen and Ladies, you may believe me, London's the place for honour and preferment. —Every man there is measured by his clothing. I've there known a drill-serjeant pass for a captain, a laird for a lord, a curate for a bishop, a French farrier for a graduate;—even I, myself, often for a man-milliner—but we never seem'd to know them in our shop; that is to say, if they pull'd freely, it made them contented, and us to sing,—Tal the dall, lal, &c.
Of every rank and station—
For belles and beaux, sure more it shows,
Than any town i' the nation.
'Twas on a night, when drest so tight,
A doxy did salute me;
So kind and free she blink'd on me,
And threw her arms about me.
[Spoken.—Faith, and after all, I believe she made more free than welcome, for instead of hugging and squeezing me out of pure kindness, as I imagined, she hugged me out of a whole week's wages, my thimble, shears, and all the rest of my appendages,—leaving me idle, only with a bodkin wanting the point, to sing,—Tal the dall, lal, &c.
| Tales, in verse and miscellaneous poems | |