The Taylor done over

A TAYLOR I once was as blithe as e'er need be, Until love's alarms has a devil sure made me; I that one was so lusty, and call'd Will the Rover, Am now a poor skeleton. Oh, I'm done over. Over, over, &c.

How many a day have I stood with great pleasure And cut out my cloth to my customer's measure; With a full yard of cabbage I then liv'd in clover, But now I'm a skeleton, by Cupid done over. Over, over, &c.

When first I beheld her in silks dress'd so gaily, I fell into fits, and they trouble me daily; Oh! how cruel must she be? the sight could not move her, I fear that these fits will soon do me over. Over, over, &c.

The next time I saw her pass by my shop window My goose (being hot) burnt a sleeve to a cinder, he girls do so jeer me, that I can go no where, Was ever a poor taylor so fairly done over? Over, over, &c.

The last time I saw her was with a bold sailor, She pointed and said—There's a done over taylor; Good bye, Mr. Stitchlouse, I'm going to Dover, The stroke was so great, it has quite done me over. Over, over, &c.

So now she has left me, and is gone with a sailor, She has left me alone, a poor done over taylor! I ne'er more will cabbage, nor be Will the Rover, God send I was dead, for I'm fairly done over. Over, over, &c.