THE TAYLOR FELL THRO' THE BED
Robert Burns

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

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.

Footnote: We complete this further mini-series by our National Bard with a song I heard recently sung by leading Scottish folk singer Robin Laing.  It is yet another old song rescued by Robert Burns to which he added the second and fourth verses.