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Poem	I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time, Three tailors tramped up to the inn Ingleheim, On the Rhine, lovely Rhine; They were broke, but the worst of it all, they were curst With that malady common to tailors--a thirst For wine, lots of wine. "Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're hard up as can be, Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we, On the Rhine, genial Rhine; And we pledge you we will impart you that skill Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill Us with wine, cooling wine." But that host shook his head, and he warily said: "Though cunning be good, we take money instead, On the Rhine, thrifty Rhine; If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way You'll find that there's both host and the devil to pay For your wine, costly wine." Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light From the Rhine, sunny Rhine; And, in such a deft way, patched a mirror that day That where it was mended no expert could say-- Done so fine 't was for wine. The second thereat spied a poor little gnat Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat Towards the Rhine, pleasant Rhine; "Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend, But your stockings need darning"--which same did he mend, All for wine, soothing wine. And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd-- His needle a space in the wall thrust the third, By the Rhine, wondrous Rhine; And then all so spry, he leapt through the eye Of that thin cambric needle--nay, think you I'd lie About wine--not for wine. The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud To do the fair thing by that talented crowd On the Rhine, generous Rhine. So a thimble filled he as full as could be-- "Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly friends three, Of my wine, filling wine."
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