Weaving Bawdiness

Today's slightly risqué post is written in a centuries-old tradition of weaving bawdiness. From the folk-rock Steeleye Span classic, The Weaver and the Factory Maid, to the immortal Robert Burns, weavers have been known as a lusty bunch. In his romantic ballad The Gallant Weaver, a lass whose father has chosen a landed husband for her resolves instead to give heart and hand to a weaver lad. (Here's a gorgeous choral arrangement by the National Collegiate Chorale of Scotland.) On the practical side, Burns warns young ladies of the dangers of walking out with weavers, apparently the playboys of the 18th century. In Tae the Weavers Gin Ye Gang he cautions: 


Tae the weavers gin ye gang, fair maids,

Tae the weavers gin ye gang.
I'll rede you richt, gang ne'er at nicht,
Tae the weavers gin ye gang.

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