Of the Tailors and the Shoemakers [Telyouris and sowtaris, blist be ye]
Betuix
twell
houris
and
ellevin,
I
dremed
ane
angell
came
fra
hevin
With
plesand
stevin
sayand
on
hie:
"Telyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"In
Hevin
hie
ordand
is
your
place
Aboif
all
sanctis
in
grit
solace,
Nixt
God
grittest
in
dignitie:
Tailyouis
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"The
caus
to
yow
is
nocht
unkend;
That
God
mismakkis,
ye
do
amend
Be
craft
and
grit
agilitie:
Tailyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"Sowtaris,
with
schone
weill
maid
and
meit
Ye
mend
the
faltis
of
ill
maid
feit,
Quhairfoir
to
Hevin
your
saulis
will
fle:
Telyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"Is
nocht
in
all
this
fair
a
flyrok
That
hes
upoun
his
feit
a
wyrok,
Knowll
tais
nor
mowlis
in
no
degrie,
Bot
ye
can
hyd
tham,
blist
be
ye.
"And
ye
tailyouris,
with
weil
maid
clais
Can
mend
the
werst
maid
man
that
gais
And
mak
him
semely
for
to
se:
Telyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"Thocht
God
mak
ane
misfassonit
swayne,
Ye
can
him
all
schaip
new
agane
And
fassoun
him
bettir
be
sic
thre:
Telyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"Thocht
a
man
haif
a
brokin
bak,
Haif
he
a
gud
telyour,
quhattrak,
That
can
it
cuver
with
craftis
slie:
Telyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"Of
God
grit
kyndnes
may
ye
clame
That
helpis
His
peple
fra
cruke
and
lame,
Supportand
faltis
with
your
supplé:
Tailyouris
and
sowtaris,
blist
be
ye.
"In
erd
ye
kyth
sic
mirakillis
heir,
In
hevin
ye
sal
be
sanctis
full
cleir,
Thocht
ye
be
knavis
in
this
cuntré:
Telyouris
and
sowataris,
blist
ye
be."