The Weaver's Daughter

As I walked out one May morning
One May morning quite early
A lovely lass came tripping by
As light as any fairy

I said, "Fair maid, if you'll be mine" -
And by the hand I caught her -
"I will make you a rich lady gay."
"Kind sir," said she, "I thank you."

"But, my poor old mother that's dead and gone
This lesson she has taught me:
To marry for love but not for gold."
I'll stay the poor old weaver's daughter

"My poor old father that's nearly blind
And grown quite past his labour
'Twould break his heart from me to part,"
Cried the poor old weaver's daughter

"Apart from me, he shall never, never be - 
He's a kind and tender father - 
Till in his peacful grave he lies."
"I'm the poor old weaver's daughter."

Apart from you he shall never, never be
And never more shall he labour
for he'll live with us in quiet rest
For I love his only daughter

And I shall honour him as if my own
As a kind and tender father
For by your kind words you have won my heart
And I love this weaver's daughter