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TO THE WEAVER"S GIN YE GO (Robert Burns) 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. CHORUS To 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. The moon was sinking in the west, Wi` visage pale and wan, As my bonie, westlin weaver lad Convoy`d me thro` the glen. But what was said, or what was done, Shame fa` me gin I tell; But Oh! I fear the kintra soon Will ken as weel`s mysel! tune: To the Weaver`s gin ye go (194) filename[GINYOUGO play.exe GINYOUGO ARB ===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
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