> Folk Music > Songs > The Wearing of the Britches

The Wearing of the Britches / The Tailor by Trade

[ Roud 1588 ; Ballad Index K215 ; DT WEARBRIT ; Mudcat 75557 , 92918 ; trad.]

William Henry Long: A Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect James Reeves: The Idiom of the People

Beware, this is an awful song condoning domestic violence.

Joe Tunney of Beleek, Co. Fermanagh sarg The Tailor by Trade, learned from Patrick Keown of Garrison (also Fermanagh), in a 1958 recording made by Peter Kennedy that was included on the anthology Jack of All Trades (The Folk Songs of Britain Volume 3; Caedmon 1961; Topic 1968). Peter Kennedy noted:

This comic portrait of the little tailor bullied by a drunken wife is certainly of recent origin and is of the type much favoured by singers in small touring companies of entertainers.

References:. Also entitled: The Wearing of the Breeches.
Reeves: The Idiom of the People (version from Cecil Sharp MS collected in Somerset).
The tune is an Anglo-Irish jig tune called Tenpenny Bit, much used for this type of song.

Paddy Tunney sang The Wearing of the Britches to Bill Leader in his home in Camden Town, London in 1965. This track was released in 1966 on his Topic album The Irish Edge and was included in 1998 on the Topic anthology of songs of love, courtship and marriage, As Me and My Love Sat Courting (The Voice of the People Volume 15). Sean O’Boyle noted on the original album:

This song is a fine example of a very common folk-song type—The Chanson du Malmarié. As the Irish proverb has it, there is nothing as bad as a bad match, so ill-matched husbands have always found their grievances well-aired by folk-poets sometimes jauntily as here, and sometimes pathetically as in The Old Man Rocking the Cradle (see next [song on the album]). Like all songs of this type, the singer ends with good advice for those contemplating matrimony:

My advice it is to you
To marry for love and work for riches.
If you can’t get a girl with an honest tongue
I don’t give you leave to wear your britches.

Paddy got The Wearing of the Britches from an old neighbour, Pat Bell Keown. The tune is reminiscent of a Gaelic drinking song Olaim Puins (I Drink Punch), and perhaps the marriage of words and air is most appropriate.

Frank Harte sang Wearing the Britches in 1975 on his RAM album And Listen to My Song. He noted:

In the North of Ireland there are a great number of songs dealing with the unending struggle between man and wife, if they are not auctioning off the wife as in The Ships Carpenter’s Wife or In Praise of James Magee they are beating her black and blue with switches as in this song which I first heard sung by Paddy Tunney, he got it from that great carrier of songs, his mother Mrs. Brigid Tunney.

Nicholas Driver played The Wearing of the Britches in 1978 on his Greenwich Village album on the traditional art of bones playing, Bare Bones.

John Wright sang Taylor by My Trade on his 1978 Topic album Unaccompanied. He noted:

From the Sharp Mss, collected from Tom Sprachlan, Hambridge, 1903 [and printed in The Idiom of the People] plus one or two verses pinched from Paddy Tunney. This song’s not a profession of faith, so don’t take it to heart girls. I just take a perverse delight in the bad rhyming.

Lyrics

Joe Heaney sings The Tailor by Trade

Come all young men, where’er you be,
And listen to my lamentation,
I courted a girl of beauty rare
And I loved her beyond admiration;
Soon in time she became my wife,
It wasn’t for love it was for riches,
And then at times it caused great strife
To see which of us would wear the britches.

O Paddy Keane, it is my name,
My height it is five foot eleven,
And my wife she is not so big
She only measures four foot seven;
How often we do fight and bawl
With nothing going but rogues and witches,
Her head comes often to the wall
But still she swears she’ll wear the britches.

I am a tailor to my trade,
At cutting out I am quite handy,
And all the money that U earn
She lives it out on tay and brandy;
The hedges I have nearly stripped,
I’ve left them short of rods and switches,
Her hide with blows I have Left black,
But still she swears she’ll wear the britches.

One morning g at the tay and eggs.
Contented sitting by the fire,
She threw the taypot at my legs
She made me lope and then retire;
How often I do sigh and moan
I may go hobbling on my crutches
I wish I’d broke my collarbone,
The day I let her wear my britches.

So now young men where’er you be
Ne’er marry a maid if she’s enchanting
For if you do when she is young
With the young men she’ll be gallanting;
Now my advice to any young man
Is to marry for love and work for riches
If you can’t get a girl with a civil tongue
That’ll give you leave to wear your britches.

Frank Harte sings Wearing the Britches

O come all young men where’er you be
And listen to me lamentations
Well, I courted a girl beyond compare
And I loved her with admiration
At length in time she became my wife
Twas not for beauty but for riches
And all the time it causes strife
To see which of us will wear the britches

Well, Paddy Kane it is my name
Me height it is five foot eleven
And my wife she’s nearly not so big
She only measures four foot seven
The hedges I have oft times stripped
I’ve left them bare of rods and switches
Her skin that’s fair sure I’ve turned black
But still she says she’ll wear my britches

I am a tailor to my trade
At cutting out I am quite handy
But sure all the money that I make
She lays it out on tea and brandy
Now sometimes I do shout and ball
There’s nothing going but rogues and witches
Her head goes often to the wall
But still she swears she’ll wear me britches

One morning at the tea and eggs
Content and sitting by the fire
Well, she broke the teapot on my legs
And left me leaping to retire
‘Tis now that I do shout and moan
As I go hopping on my crutches
Well, I wished I’d broke my collarbone
The day I let her wear me britches

So come all young men where’er you be
Don’t marry a wife if she’s enchanting
For if you do, you’ll end like me
With other men she’ll go gallanting
Now my advice it is to yous
To marry for love and work for riches
And be sure of a wife with an honest tongue
That’ll give you leave to wear your britches