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 quot
This couple got married
and they'll roam no more
Their pleasures and treasures round
Locherin's shore