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.
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 ribbons fine;
And I was feared my heart would tire.
And I gied it to the weaver.
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was feared my heart would tire.
And I gied it to the weaver.
My daddie signed my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gie it to the weaver.
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gie it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
While bees rejoice in opening flowers
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.
While bees rejoice in opening flowers
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.