The Tailor of Gloucester in your own voice

Long ago, in the days of swords and powdered wigs, when gentlemen wore long, swishing coats with frilly cuffs and fancy waistcoats trimmed with gold, there lived a tailor in the city of Gloucester. He sat in the window of a little shop in Westgate Street. He sat cross-legged on a table, from morning until dark. All day long, while the light lasted, he sewed and snipped. He worked with satin and silk and taffeta. Back then, fabrics had strange names, and they cost a great deal of money. But although the tailor sewed fine silk for his neighbours, he himself was very, very poor. He was a little old man in glasses, with a thin, pinched face, crooked old fingers, and a suit of worn-out clothes.