The Tailor

The story of a poor tailor who loved a beautiful, rich woman.

Emerald green eyes and long, red hair.
The finest of clothing, she did wear.
She strolls through town with that man, there.

And I am but a tailor.

Well, I am poor and they are rich.
No matter how many stitches I stitch,
I will never in my life become so rich,

For I am but a tailor.

Arm in arm or hand in hand,
They walk on by that shop I mand.
If only I could hold that hand!

But I am but a tailor.

All of those fabrics; Pink and White.
I make her dress with no delight.
Their wedding day; it is tonight.

And I am but a tailor.

Every little seam, I did sow,
But to that wedding, I did not go.
She would never love me so,

For I am but a tailor.

All of this sorrow! It was too much.
The rope of a noose, my neck did touch.
I don't think anyone missed me much,

For I was but a tailor.