King’s 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 you’ve ever seen it all your life. So
much so that the king called him to the palace.

Look at yourself in that mirror, you’re scruffy, now I’m going to give you
a role of the finest cloth in the land, it’s 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 he’d made a jacket and not just any old jacket, but the finest jacket
he’d 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 he’d 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 he’d 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 he’d 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 dandy. And 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 he’d
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 he’d 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 I’d told a story like that.

And the storyteller felt proud, proud of his craft and proud of his
trade. He told that story, yes you’ve 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 you’re still here a bit
later I might even tell you that one too.
http://www.speakeandlowestories.talktalk.net/king's_tailor.htm