Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.
By The Tailor in HellHumorous Ballad (End of 18th Century)
A
One Monday morning fair,
And then he met the devil,
Whose feet and legs were bare:
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Come now with me to hell—oh,
And measure clothes for us to wear,
For what you will is well, oh!”
His scissors long and clipped
The devils’ little tails all off,
And to and fro they skipped.
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We do not need this clipping, sir:
What you will is not well, oh!”
And tossed it in the fire;
The devils’ wrinkles then he pressed;
Their screams were something dire:
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now get thee out of hell—oh,
We do not need this pressing,
What you will is not well, oh!”
With a bodkin from his sack.
“This way we put the buttons on,
For that’s our tailor’s knack!”
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We do not need this dressing:
What you will is not well, oh!”
His stitching he began,
And closed the devils’ nostrils up
As tightly as one can.
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We cannot use our noses,
Do what we will for smell, oh!”
It must have made them smart—
With all his might the tailor ripped
The devils’ ears apart:
“Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now march away from hell—oh,
We else should need a Doctor,
If what you will were well—oh!”
And cried: “What horror fell!
No devil has his little tail;
So drive him out of hell:
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We need to wear no clothes at all—
What you will is not well, oh!”
He felt so very well—oh!
He hopped and skipped without dismay
And had a laughing spell—oh!
And hurried out of hell—oh!
And stayed a tailor-fellow;
And the devil will catch no tailor now,
Let him steal, as he will—it is well, though!