We are all met together here to sit and to crack
With our glasses in our hands and our work upon our backs
And there's not a trade among them all can neither mend nor mak
Gin it wasna for the work of the weavers
If it wasna for the weavers, what would you do
You wouldna hae cloth that's made o wool
Ye wouldna hae a coat neither black nor the blue
Gin it wasna for the work o the the weavers
The hireman chiels, they mock us and crack aye aboots
They say that we are thin faced, bleached like cloots
But yet for all their mockery, they canna do wi oots
No they canna want the work o the weavers
There's our rights and our slaters and glaziers and a'
Our doctors and ministers and them that live by law
And our friends in South America, tho them we never saw
But we know they wear the work of the weavers
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There's our sailors and our soldiers, we know they're all bauld
But if they hadna clothes, faith they couldna live for cauld
The high and low, the rich and poor, a'body young and auld
They widna want the work o the weavers
There's folk that's independent of other tradesman work
The women need no barbers and dykers need no clerk
But none o them can do wi out a coat or a shirt
No, they canna want the work o the weavers
The weaving is a trade that never can fail
As longs we need a cloth to keep another hale
So let us aye be merry over a bicket of good ale
And drink a health to the weavers.
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