Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Weaver and The Factory Maid, artist - Steeleye Span. Album song Live at a Distance, in the genre Фолк-рок
Date of issue: 20.06.2010
Record label: Park
Song language: English
The Weaver and The Factory Maid |
When I was a tailor I carried my bodkin and shears |
When I was a weaver I carried my roods and my gear |
My temples also, my small clothes and reed in my hand |
And wherever I go, here’s the jolly bold weaver again |
I’m a hand weaver to my trade |
I fell in love with a factory maid |
And if I could but her favour win |
I’d stand beside her and weave by steam |
My father to me scornful said |
How could you fancy a factory maid |
When you could have girls fine and gay |
Dressed like unto the Queen of May |
As for your fine girls I don’t care |
If I could but enjoy my dear |
I’d stand in the factory all the day |
And she and I’d keep our shuttles in play |
I went to my love’s bedroom door |
Where often times I had been before |
But I could not speak nor yet get in |
The pleasant bed that my love laid in |
How can you say it’s a pleasant bed |
Where nowt lies there but a factory maid? |
A factory lass although she be |
Blest in the man that enjoys she |
O pleasant thoughts come to my mind |
As I turn doen the sheets so fine |
And I seen her two breasts standing so |
Like two white hills all covered with snow |
The loom goes click and the loom goes clack |
The shuttle flies forward and then flies back |
The weaver’s so bent that he’s like to crack |
Such a wearisome trade is the weaver’s |
The yarn is made into cloth at last |
The ends of west they are made quite fast |
The weaver’s labour are now all past |
Such a wearisome trade is the weaver’s |
Where are the girls I will tell you plain |
The girls have gone to weave by steam |
And if you’d find them you must rise at dawn |
And trudge to the mill in the early morn |
When I was a tailor I carried my bodkin and shears |
When I was a weaver I carried my roods and my gear |
My temples also, my small clothes and reed in my hand |
And wherever I go, here’s the jolly bold weaver again |