My friend, Okon, is a short tailor with tall morals
But his skills are not so tall
The four walls of his shop form the holiest niche in my street
Where he preaches the gospel with every stitch
Okon doesn’t mend female trousers
‘Cause he forbids women wearing trousers
Give Okon your skin to mend:
And with gospel stitches he’ll turn it into a “virtuous woman” skirt
Just like Mary’s_ extra-large, extra-long and shapeless
He’ll sew a padlock to the waist and ask you to always lock-up
Okon’s shop is full of abandoned dresses
Each one represents a fight I separated
A fight won against indecent dressing;
A soul saved from eternal damnation by Okon!
Standing under the shade afront my abode
I beheld a nymphet going into Okon’s shop;
A dress in her hand, a smile on her face
I gave her a knowing smile; hers is the next fight I’ll separate
‘Cause I know she won’t like Okon’s gospel stitches!
Have you ever met a tailor like Okon or any funny tailor at all? Let's here your story here...