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.