One morn for pleasure I did ramble,
In the pleasant month of June,
The birds did sing the lambkins play,
Two lovers walking in their bloom,
The lassie was a steam loom weaver,
The lad an engine drive (sic) keen, [Note 471.1]
All their discourse was about weaving,
And the getting up of steam.

She said my loom is out of fettle¹,
Can you right it - yes or no, -
You say you are an engine driver,
Which makes the steam so rapid flow,
My lambs¹ and jacks¹ are out of order,
My laith¹ in motion has not been,
So work away without delay,
And quickly muster up the steam

I said fair maid you seem determined,
No longer for two idle be,
Your healds¹ and laith I'll put in motion,
Then work you can without delay,
She said young man a pair of pickers¹,
A shuttle too I want you ween¹,
Without these three I cannot weave,
So useless then would be the steam.

Dear lass these things I will provide,
But when to labour will you begin,
As soon my lad as things are ready,
My loom shop you can enter in,
A shuttle¹ true and pickers too.
This young man did provide amain¹,
And soon her loom was put in tune,
So well it was supplied with steam.

Her loom work'd well, the shuttle flew,
He's pickers played, the tune nick-nack,
Her laith did move with rapid motion,
Her temples¹, healds, long-lambs¹ and jacks,
Her cloth beam² roll'd the cloth up tight,
The yarn beam emptied soon it seems,
The young man cry'd your loom works well,
And quickly then shot off the steam.

She said young man another web,
Upon the beam let's get, don't strike,
But work away while yet it's day,
This steam-loom weaving well I like,
He said, good lass, I cannot stay,
But if a fresh warp¹ you will beam,
Ready when I come this way,