Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We cannot use our noses,
Do what we will for smell, oh!

Then he began to cut away—
It must have made them smart;
With all his might the tailor ripped
The devils' ears apart.
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow,
Now march away from hell—oh,
We else should need a doctor,
If what we will were well—oh!

And last of all came Lucifer
And cried: "What horror fell!
No devil has his little tail;
So drive him out of hell."
Hallo, thou tailor-fellow.
Now hie thee out of hell—oh,
We need to wear no clothes at all—
For what we will, is well, oh!

And when the tailor's sack was packed,
He felt so very well—oh!
He hopped and skipped without dismay
And had a laughing spell, oh!
And hurried out of hell—oh,
And stayed a tailor-fellow;
And the devil will catch no tailor now,
Let him steal, as he will—it is well, though!

There is a reaper, Death his name;
His might from God the highest came.
Today his knife he'll whet,
'T will cut far better yet;
Soon he will come and mow,
And we must bear the woe—
Beware, fair flower!