To The Weaver’s Gin Ye Go

My heart was ance as blithe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, 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 bonie, 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 bonie, 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