Carpet Weaver

Don't you remember a poor carpet weaver, Whose daughter lov'd a youth so true; He promis'd one day he never would leave her, Ah! down in the vale where violets grew. He flatter'd and vow'd while she sat beside him, Soft tales telling of love long ago; But can you tell if she her love deni'd him, Down in the vale where violets grew.

Never he told her he would be a rover, She fondly thought he told her true: But how shall the maid his truth discover, Ah! will he plight his vows anew. If, never, never, her voice deceiv'd him, Now while telling of love long ago; Can he forget the girl who believ'd him, Down in the vale where violets grew.