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I am a hand weaver, to my trade |
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I fell in love with a factory maid |
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And if I could her favour gain |
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I'd sit beside her and weave by steam |
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My father to me scornful said |
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"How could you fancy a factory maid? |
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"When you could have girls both fine and gay |
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"All dressed like unto the Queen of May?" |
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As for your fine girls, I do not care |
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If I could but enjoy my dear |
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I'd sit in the factory all the day |
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And she and I'd keep our shuttles in play |
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I went to my lover's window last night |
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She says the moon was shining bright |
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And such a light came from her clothes |
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Like the morning star when it first arose |
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I went to my love's bedroom door |
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Where I had been oft times before |
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But I could not speak nor yet get in |
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To the pleasant bed where my love lay in |
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The pleasant bed where my love lay in |
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The pleasant bed where my love lay in |
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How can you say call it a pleasant bed |
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When naught lies there but a factory maid? |
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A factory maid although she be |
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Blessed be the man who enjoys she |
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Pleasant thoughts ran in my mind |
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As I turned down her sheets so fine |
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And see her two breasts standing so |
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Like two white hills all covered in snow |
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I turned down the milk-white sheet |
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To view her body, so fair and neat |
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And underneath I did espy |
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Two pillars of the finest ivory |
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Beneath those pillars a fountain lay |
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Which my poor wand'ring eye betrayed |
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But of all the fountains e'er to be found |
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I could have wished myself there drowned |
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Instrumental |
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The loom goes click, and the loom goes clack |
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the shuttle flies forward and then flies back |
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The weaver's so bent that he's like to crack |
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Where are the girls? I'll tell you plain |
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The girls have all gone to weave by steam |
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And if you would find them, you must rise at dawn |
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And trudge to the mill in the early morn. |
