Poem by Robert Burns

The Gallant Weaver

WHERE Cart rins rowin’ to the sea,
By mony a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
  He is a gallant weaver.

Oh I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear’d my heart would tine,
  And I gied it to the weaver.

My daddie sign’d my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I’ll add my hand,
  And gie it to the weaver.

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
While bees rejoice in opening flowers;
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
  I’ll love my gallant weaver.

1. Blythe Was She
2. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
3. Lovely Davies
4. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
5. Young Highland Rover

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