Wee Weaver

I am a wee weaver
Confined to my loom
My love she is fair as
The red rose in June
She's loved by all young men
And that does grieve me
My heart's in the bosom
Of lovely Mary

As Willie and Mary
Rode by yon shady bower
Where Willie and Mary
Spent many a happy hour
Where the thrush and the blind boy
Do constantly call
Their praises of Mary
Round Loch Erishawn

As Willie and Mary
Rode by yon riverside
Said Willie to Mary
"Will you be my bride?"
This couple got married
And then roamed no more
Their pleasures and treasures
Round Loch Erishawn