'Tis I can weave woollen and linen,
 The finest folk wear on their backs;
So, girls, come give over your spinnin',
 And wind off your wool and your flax!
For hark! As the bee hunts for treasure
That’s hid in the mountainy bloom,
My shuttle goes bursting with pleasure,
To gather me gold from the loom.

Five year at my woollen and linen
 I've woven from mornin' to night,
With a heart that beat heavy beginnin',
 But is leapin' for ever more light.
For hark! As the bee hunts for treasure
That’s hid in the mountainy bloom,
My shuttle goes bursting with pleasure,
To gather me gold from the loom.

Now with guineas full up is the stockin',
 Sewed safe in the tick of my bed,
And 'tis soon that I'll rest without rockin',
 Since at Shrovetide with Willy I'll wed.
For hark! As the bee hunts for treasure
That’s hid in the mountainy bloom,
My shuttle goes bursting with pleasure,
To gather me gold from the loom.