My heart was ance as blythe and free As simmer days were lang; But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad Has gart me change my sang. Chorus. -- To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids, To the weaver's gin ye go; I rede you right, gang ne'er at night, To the weaver's gin ye go. My mither sent me to the town, To warp a plaiden wab; But the weary, weary warpin o't Has gart me sigh and sab. To the weaver's, &c. A bonnie, westlin weaver lad Sat working at his loom; He took my heart as wi' a net, In every knot and thrum. To the weaver's, &c. I sat beside my warpin-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 bonnie, westlin weaver lad Convoy'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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOREST MAID by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE DESERTED PLANTATION by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SUN-DAY HYMN [OR LAMENT] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ELEGY BEFORE DEATH by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LADY OF CASTLENORE; A.D. 1700 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FROGS: THE FATAL OIL-FLASK by ARISTOPHANES |