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Poems, on sacred and other subjects

and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs

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THE HEROIC TAILOR.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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THE HEROIC TAILOR.

[_]

AIR,—“The Rock and the wee pickle Tow.”

Ae nicht, at the heicht o' the Michaelmas moon,
The tailor at our house was sewin', O;
He gaed down the howm, ere his labour was done,
And wi' Nelly fell briskly a-wooin', O.
A swarm o' keen lovers cam' round the same nicht,
Ilk ane, for his ain int'rest, to use his hale micht;
But a' firm resolved wi' the tailor to fecht—
For mischief in ilk head was brewin', O.
The tailor was fearless, the tailor was stark,
And mindna their jibin' and jeerin', O;
Frae bother to blows they richt soon fell to wark,
And the tailor was fast the field clearin', O.
Ane, grippin' the cushion that was on his sleeve,
Declared he a hedgehog had claucht wi' his nieve,
While stabs frae his bodkin gart ithers believe
That the broil wad come to an ill-bearin', O.
But soon a re'nforcement cam' round to their aid,
And frae numbers they courage did muster, O;
The tailor foresaw, but was naething afraid,
That he'd come aff wi' skaith frae this cluster, O:
He sprang up the craft to the house, in his ire,
And bang'd out the red goose that lay in the fire,
Syne gied them, o' fechtin', mair than their desire,
For their hides he did sotter and blister, O.

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A' airts o' the compass they fled frae the field,
Sair skaith'd by his red salamander, O,
Astonish'd to fin' that a young tailor chield
Had the courage o' great Alexander, O.
Young Hughoc, the laird, met the warst fate ava;
He a new suit had on, and was baith skeigh and braw,
But plunged in the midden when fleein' awa';
He wi' little mense hameward did wander, O.
O' a' the brisk wooers that flock about Nell,
There's nane now has charms like the tailor, O;
She jeers them awa', sin' that nicht's wark befell,
And no ane can guess what doth ail her, O.
She scorns a' their gear, and their bonnet-laird pride,
And vows that the tailor's got her for his bride;
Wi' a chiel o' sic mettle she'd range the warld wide,
For he's like a champion for valour, O.