Two drunken weavers sat at their loom

Sales were bad-they faced their doom.

"Let us clothe the clans, my brother,

so we can tell one from the other."

They swigged more whisky as they toiled

One colour, then another coiled

around the loom, then up, and under

As each one tried to outdo the other.

As empty whisky bottles fell

the two brothers worked like hell.

Soon every colour looked the same

and it became a competitive game.

One wanted reds, the other blues

They crissed and crossed the many hues.

They sang and laughed the night away

Working till the room began to sway.

Morning found them on the floor

with empty whisky bottles galore.

The splendour of the cloth filled the room.

The brightest of all was still on the loom.

The Clans all came from far and wide,

to choose their cloth, and wear with pride.

The Tartan brothers found their fame

by giving the new cloth their name.­

© Copyright Violet Apted

Midi: "Devil Among the Tailors"
(http://ingeb.org)

Graphic: "Landscapes-1"
(ibenstein weavers)
(www.ibenstein-weavers.com)