The Weaver's Daughter

As I walked out one morning fair
To view the fields so early
A pretty lass came tripping by
As light as any fairy
I said, "Fair maid, what brings you here?"
And by the hand I caught her
I asked her name, she blushed for shame

"I'm the poor old weaver's daughter
The poor old weaver's daughter"

Her hair was black, her eyes were blue
Her age was almost twenty
I said, "Fair maid, if you'll be mine
I've gold and riches plenty
My mother she's not long been dead
And the lesson that she taught me
Was to marry for love and not for gold"

Cried the poor old weaver's daughter
The poor old weaver's daughter

"My father, he's almost blind
And long composed his labour
It would break his heart from me to part"

Cried the poor old weaver's daughter
The poor old weaver's daughter

I turned around to go my way
And bid farewell forever
I wish this maiden all the joy
And love long life can bring her
I'll never forget the day we met
By fields of shining water
And where'er she's gone my heart belongs

To the poor old weaver's daughter
The poor old weaver's daughter
The poor old weaver's daughter