I am a wee weaver confined to my loom My lover she is fair as the red rose in June She's loved by all young men and that does grieve me My heart's in the bosom of lovely Mary. As Willie and Mary rode by yon shady bower Where Willie and Mary spent many a happy hour Where the thrush and the blackbird do constantly call The praises of Mary 'round Locherin's shore. As Willie and Mary rode by yon river side Said Willie to Mary : 'Will you be my bride ?' This couple got married and they'll roam no more Their pleasures and treasures 'round Locherin's shore.
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