CXLIV.
Reading edition
THE GALLANT WEAVER.
Tune—“The Weavers’ March.”
[Sent by the poet to the Museum. Neither tradition nor criticism has noticed it, but the song is popular among the looms, in the west of Scotland.]
I.
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flow’r 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 fear’d my heart would tine, And I gied it to the weaver.
II.
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 gie it to the weaver. While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; While bees delight in op’ning flowers; While corn grows green in simmer showers, I’ll love my gallant weaver.