there once was a wee laddie-o who lived not so very long ago who had a brother with a heart of gold, they soon grew into men the younger had never walked, because of this he never had the brighter view and attitude, curse to live in a wheelie chair
days went by, the story goes, they got the gift for making clothes shirts and britches, coats and socks, bluses, kilts and hats and socks one day after closing shop his brother wheeled him for a drop down at the pub when the locals drink, speaking in low tones
tailor, tailor, all alone in the tavern sewing clothes tailor, tailor, don't believe in things that walk at night
well he sat there sipping, mended clothes listening to those who'd never spent the night beside the stone and graves on haunted hill he said "Roll me up, we'll make a bet, i'll spend the night all by myself to prove there ain't no ghosts that haunt the stones on graveyard hill"
tailor, tailor, all alone in the tavern sewing clothes tailor, tailor, don't believe in things that walk at night believe in things that haunt the moonlight
well he sat there in the moonlight, he sat there mending clothes he was shocked to see a big skeleton standing in the graveyard 10 feet tall he tried to kill the tailor, but he glanced him smashing stones he took his flight for his life and walked around for evermore
tailor, tailor, all alone in the tavern sewing clothes tailor, tailor, don't believe in things that walk at night believe in things that haunt the moonlightTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
