Lewis doctored the wound as best he could, and then proceeded to lay on the cloth and sew it to the fleece.

The ewe grew restless with the heat and the pinching of the cut, and Jock was given the task of holding her head.
Clearly Lewis was not meant by Providence for a tailor.

He made lamentable work with the needle.

It slipped and pricked his fingers, while his unfeeling friends jeered and Tam turned great eyes of sympathy upwards from his Sunday garments.
"Patience, patience, man!" said the old herd.

"Ca' cannier and be a wee thing quieter in your langwidge.