It happened at the mill, by the loom, where a simple song is sung until the bell tolls the end of the day as the gears whir, our song grows heted, it was here that I came to love a merry weaver.
My loom, my little loom, what is this song you sing? you never find one like my love. My loom, my little loom, what is this song you sing? you never find one like my love.
I work away at my knitting with trembling hands- He loves me not, he knows me not, he's left me for another. The working day is over, the bells tolls the end of the day- it was at the mill, by the loom.
My loom, my little loom, what is this song you sing? you never find one like my love. My loom, my little loom, what is this song you sing? you never find one like my love.