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l8 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 19. My heart was ance as blythe and free.
Tune: To the weaver's gin ye go Scots Musical Museum, 1788, No. 103. |
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My heart was ance as blythe and free
As simmer days were lang; But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.
ChorusTo the weaver s gin ye go, fair maids, To the weaver's gin ye go, I rede you right, gang ne'er at night, To the weaver s gin ye go.
My mither sent me to the town,
To warp a plaiden wab ; But the weary, weary warpin o't
Has gart me sigh and sab.
A bonie, westlin weaver lad
Sat working at his loom ; He took my heart, as wi' a net,
In every knot and thrum.
I sat beside my warpin-wheel,
And ay I ca'd it roun'; But every shot and every knock,
My heart it gae a stoun. |
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