The Jolly Little Tailor

Come ladies and gentlemen and list to what I say,
I'll sing to you a song from the north country,
In a village near to Whitby town a tailor once did dwell,
And wine and women's company he loved them right well.

At a dance one New Years evening this tailor did attend,
I'm sure that he would never have gone had he foreseen the end.
For this jolly little tailor will never forget that night,
There never was a tailor seen in such a sorry plight.

The jolly little tailor he drank whisky many's the tot,
The jolly little tailor was the merriest of the lot.
To the lady he was dancing with the tailor he did say,
"If you lend to me your petticoats I'll dance all like a maid."

Well his breeches he took off and her petticoats he put on,
The little tailor's breeches she quickly did adorn,
The fiddler he played to them a merry, merry tune,
She danced money watch and breeches right out of the room.

"Oh bring back me breeches" the tailor did loudly call,
"Oh bring to me my breeches my money watch and all"
The crowd they all assembled and loud with laughter did roar,
When the little tailor's petticoat fell down upon the floor.

"Oh lord" cried the tailor "forever down I'll be,"
"Oh lord" then cried the tailor "have pity now on me".
What to do the little tailor he really didn't know,
For his little shirt was far too short to cover all below.

Well the fiddler he played a tune for all that he was worth,
The tune he played the tailor was the famous Cock o' the north,
All the ladies were delighted but soon they shouted no,
When the tailor took his trilby off to cover Uncle Joe.

Well when at last this tailor got out into the street,
A pretty fair damsel he chanced for to meet,
This lady she danced and sang when the tailor did appear,
She wished him a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

The jolly little tailor this lady did address,
"You know it is not ladylike to laugh at mans distress,"
Said the lady to the tailor," Give me no more of that,
If you call yourself a gentleman why don't you raise your hat."

In a village hear to Whitby town there's old men living yet
Who'll tell to you a story that they never will forget,
Old ladies too will tell to you the dance they loved the best,
was the dance the little tailor showed his cuckoo's nest.

And the poor little tailor from that day to this ,
Wine and women's company he gives them all a miss,
At a dance the little tailor they ne'er no more did catch,
Since the lady stole his breeches, his money and his watch.