Oh, when I was a tailor, I my bodkin and shears When I was a weaver, I carried my and my gear My temples also, my small clothes and reed in my And wherever I go, here's the jolly bold again
I'm a hand to my trade I in love with a factory maid And if I but her favour win I'd stand beside her and weave by
My father to me scornful "How could you fancy a maid?" When you could girls fine and gay Dressed like unto the of May
As for your fine I don't care If I but enjoy my dear I'd in the factory all the day And she and I'd keep our in play
I to my love's bedroom door Where often times I had before But I could not nor yet get in The pleasant bed that my love in
How can you say it's a bed When lies there but a factory maid? And a lass although she be is the man that enjoys she
O pleasant thoughts to me mind As I turn down the so fine And I seen her two breasts so Like two white hills all with snow
The loom goes click and the goes clack The shuttle flies forward and flies back The weaver's so that he's like to crack Such a trade is the weaver
The yarn is made into at last The ends of the weft are made quite fast The weaver's labors are now all a wearisome trade is the weaver
Where are the girls, I tell you plain The girls gone to weave by steam And if you'd them you must rise at dawn And trudge to the mill in the early
Oh, when I was a tailor, I my bodkin and shears When I was a weaver, I carried my roods and my My temples also, my small and reed in my hand And wherever I go, here's the bold weaver again