Poems by Robert Burns

Presented by the RBWF

The Taylor fell thro’ the bed, &c.

THE Taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a',
The Taylor fell thro' the bed thimble an' a';
The blankets were thin and the sheets they were sma',
The Taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'.

The sleepy bit lassie she dreaded nae ill,
The sleepy bit lassie she dreaded nae ill;
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still,
She thought that a Taylor could do her nae ill.

Gie me the groat again, cany young man,
Gie me the groat again, cany young man;
The day is short and the night it is lang,
The dearest siller that ever I wan.

There 's somebody weary wi' lying her lane,
There 's somebody weary wi' lying her lane,
There 's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fain
To see the bit Taylor come skippin again.