November 1, 2014 by Ville Raivio
Bill Smith was a tailor, a ‘prentice he’d been
whose work was as perfect as ever was seen
he knew how to build up a front and to press
a frock coat, a morning coat, lounge, or a dress
for full forty years at the trade he had worked
and during that period no job he had shirked
but one fact his conscience continually mocked
he’d not made a job yet that couldn’t be cocked!
chorus: fol-de-rol-liddle-lol; fol-de-rol-lay; more collar-ology every day!
said Smith: “Now this frock coat I’m starting to make
will be absolutely perfection I’ll stake;
every point will be studied, the collar fit clean,
the edges I’ll prick with a fifteen between.”
the fronts then he molded artistic and true
he pinked it so much that his shopmates turned blue
a penny an hour were his earnings if clocked
on this wonderful garment that couldn’t be cocked.
chorus: fol-de-rol-liddle-lol; fol-de-rol-lay; no collar-ology encore I’ll say
the words that gave them a most terrible shock
were “I ordered a lounge and you’ve made me a frock.”
fol-de-rol-liddle-lol; the theme of my song: no matter what happens the journeyman is wrong!
~ as told in Nothing but the Best by Thomas Girtin
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