THE JACKET.
“Tailor, tailor, tell me true,
Where did you get my jacket of blue?”
“I bought the cloth, little Master mine,
From the merchant who sells it, coarse and fine.
I cut it out with my shears so bright,
“Merchant, merchant, tell me true,
Where did you get the cloth so blue?”
“The cloth was made, little Master mine,
Of woollen threads so soft and fine.
The weaver wove them together for me;
With loom and shuttle his trade plies he.”
“Weaver, weaver, speak me, sooth,
Where got you the threads so soft and smooth?”
“From wool they’re spun, little Master mine.
The spinner carded the wool so fine.
She spun it in threads, and brought it to me,
Where my sounding loom whirrs cheerily.”
“Spinner, spinner, tell me true,
Where got you the wool such things to do?”
“From the old sheep’s back, little Master dear!
The farmer he cut it and washed it clear;
The dyer dyed it so bright and blue,
And brought it to me to spin for you.”
“Now tailor and merchant, and weaver, too,
And spinner and farmer, my thanks to you!
But the best of my thanks I still will keep
For you, my good old woolly-backed sheep.”