The gallant Weaver

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea,By monie 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.

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 rejoice in opening flowers;While corn grows green in simmer showers,I'll love my gallant weaver.