The Gallant Weaver
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea,
By mony a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant Weaver.
Oh I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbans fine;
And I was fear’d my heart wad tine
And I gied it to the Weaver.
My daddie sign’d my tocher-band
To gie the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I’ll add my hand
And give it to the Weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers,
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I love my gallant Weaver.
