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