I
am the wee weaver, confined to my loom
And
my love she is fairer, than the red rose in bloom
She
is loved by all the young men, and that does grieve me
There’s
a heart in my bosom, for lovely Mary
As
Willie and Mary rode by yon shady bough
Where
Willie and Mary spent manys the happy hour
Where
the blackbirds and thrushes do concert and chorus
The
praise of Mary and love fair and sure
As
Mary and Willie rode by yon river side
Says
Willie unto Mary will you be my bride
This
couple got married and they rode no more
They
have pleasure and treasure, and love fair and sure
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