Classic Poem

O wha's the loun can clout the claes?
Canty Davie, dainty Davie;
Wha the lassock's hearts can raise
Like little tailor Davie?

Though callants ca' him Whup-the-Cat,
And men-folk ban his gabbin' chat,
The lassies they find nae sic faut
Wi' kindly little Davie.

O blythe is ilka bodie's house,
Whaur Davie sits and cracks fou crouse,
Nae post-bag's half sae cramm'd wi' news
As glib-mou'd tailor Davie.

The weanies round him in a raw,
He raises sic a loud guffaw,
You'll hear the din a mile awa'
O' them and tailor Davie.

The auld man's roomy waddin' coat,
Wi' age an' moths scarce worth a groat,
Maks breeks to Tam, an' coat to Jock,
An' spats to tailor Davie.
O wha's the loun, &c.