Weaver's daughter


Verse 1

Across the fields, one sweet May morn,
As I walked out quite early,
A lovely lass came tripping by,
As light as any fairy.

Verse 2

"Where are you going, my pretty maid?"
And by the hand I caught her;
I asked her name, she blushed with shame -
"I'm the poor old weaver's daughter"

Verse 3

Her cheeks were fair as any rose,
Her age was almost twenty,
I says - "My dear, if you'll be mine,
I've gold and riches plenty."

Verse 4

"My mother she has not long been dead,
And a nice lesson she taught me -
To marry for love, and not for gold,"
Cries the poor old weaver's daughter.

Verse 5

"My father he is nearly blind,
And now gone past his labour,
And he'll break his heart from me to part,"
Cries the poor old weaver's daughter.