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Kings Tailor

There once was a little tailor. Now this little tailor was the finest tailor in the land. He was such a fine tailor that the king employed him to make his clothes. And he was so busy making clothes for the king that he didn't have any time to make any clothes for himself. So despite being the finest tailor in the land he was the scruffiest person youve ever seen it all your life. So much so that the king called him to the palace.

Look at yourself in that mirror, youre scruffy, now Im going to give you a role of the finest cloth in the land, its over there, and I expect you to take a day and make a jacket for yourself.

Well, the little tailor took the roll of cloth on his shoulder and he walked back to his workshop. And he spread that cloth out on his workbench, and it was good cloth.

Now I can make something out of that.

And he sat up for the whole of one night snipping and stitching and by the morning hed made a jacket and not just any old jacket, but the finest jacket hed made in the whole of his career as a tailor. He buttoned that jacket up, and when he looked in the mirror oh he did look a dandy. And when he walked down the street, every head turned. And all the folks said:

That's a wonderful jacket, I wish I had a jacket like that.

And the little tailor fell proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He wore that jacket year in and year out for many a long year, he wore it till it started to go threadbare. And it went threadbare where jackets always go threadbare, on the elbows. So he went back to his workshop. And he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night snipping and stitching. And by the morning, he'd made a waistcoat and not just any old waistcoat, but the finest waistcoat hed made in the whole of his career as a tailor. He buttoned that waistcoat up, and when he looked in the mirror oh he did look a dandy, and when he walked down the street every head turned and all the folks said:

That's a wonderful waistcoat, I wish I had a waistcoat like that.

And the little tailor felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He wore that waistcoat year in and year out, for many a long year, he wore it till it started to go threadbare. And it went threadbare where waistcoats always go threadbare, which is across the back. So he went back to his workshop and he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night snipping and stitching. And by the morning, he'd made a hat and not just any old hat, but the finest hat hed made in the whole of his career as a tailor. He put that hat on, and when he looked in the mirror oh he did look a dandy, and when he walked down the street every head turned and all the folks said:

That's a wonderful hat, I wish I had a hat like that.

And the little tailor felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He wore that hat year in and year out, for many a long year, he wore it till it started to go threadbare. And it went threadbare where hats always go threadbare, where the sweatband inside is rubbing against the head. So he went back to his workshop and he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night snipping and stitching. And by the morning, he'd made a bowtie and not just any old bowtie, but the finest bowtie hed made in the whole of his career as a tailor. He did that bowtie up, and when he looked in the mirror oh he did look a dandyAnd when he walked down the street every head turned and all the folks said:

That's a wonderful bowtie, I wish I had a bowtie like that.

And the little tailor felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He wore that bowtie year in and year out, for many a long year, he wore it till it started to go threadbare and it went threadbare where bowties always go threadbare, where the tiecord is rubbing against the neck. So he went back to his workshop and he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night snipping and stitching. And by the morning, he'd made a button, a cloth covered button, and not just any old button, but the finest button hed made in the whole of his career as a tailor. He sewed that button at the top of his trousers, just in the middle, and when he looked in the mirror oh he did look a dandy, and when he walked down the street every head turned and all the folks said:

That's a wonderful button, I wish I had a button like that.

And the little tailor felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He wore that button year in and year out, for many a long year, he wore it till it started to go threadbare and it went threadbare where cloth covered buttons always go threadbare, where the metal inside is rubbing against the nap of the cloth. So he walked back to his workshop, he had to if you think about it, and he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night and by the morning he'd made a story, and not just any old story, but the finest story hed made in the whole of his career as a storyteller. He told that story as he looked in the mirror and oh he did look a dandy, and when he walked down the street every head turned and all the folks said:

That's a wonderful story, I wish Id told a story like that.

And the storyteller felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his trade. He told that story, yes youve guessed it, year in and year out, for many a long year. He told it till it started to go threadbare and it went threadbare where stories always go threadbare, just about at the end. So he went back to his workshop, and he was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought:

Hang on a minute, now I can make something out of that.

So he sat down at his workbench and he sat up for the whole of one night and by the morning, he'd made another story, and if youre still here a bit later I might even tell you that one too.