to the weavers gin ye go
my heart was ance as blithe and free
as simmer days were ng;
but a bonie, westlin weaver d
has gart me ge my sang.
chorus.—to the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,
to the weaver's gin ye go;
i rede yht, gang ne'er at night,
to the weaver's gin ye go.
my mither seo the town,
to a piden wab;
but the weary, weary in o't
has gart me sigh and sab.
to the weaver's, &c.
a bonie, westlin weaver d
sat w at his loom;
he took my heart as wi' a ,
in every knot and thrum.
to the weaver's, &c.
i sat beside my in-wheel,
and aye i ca'd it roun';
but every shot and evey knock,
my heart it gae a stoun.
to the weaver's, &c.
the moon was sinking in the west,
wi' visage pale and wan,
as my bonie, westlin weaver d
voy'd me thro' the glen.
to the weaver's, &c.
but what was said, or what was done,
shame fa' me gin i tell;
but oh! i fear the kintra soon
will ken as weel's myself!
to the weaver's, &c.