Weaving Lilt

Wait today, love, till tomorrow,
Horo ecican arin huo. *
While l weave fine linen for thee, love,
Linen for thee, fine linen for thee, love,
While l weave fine linen for thee, love,
Wait today, love, till tomorrow.

Wait today until tomorrow.
Horo ecican arin huo.
Sown is the lint, but och, will it grow, love?
Linen for thee, fine linen for thee, love,
Sure will it grow fine linen for thee, love?
Wait today, love, till tomorrow.

Shuttle I lent to the King of France, love,
Horo ecican arin huo.
Loom, it grows in the wood of St. Patrick,
Shuttle, nor loom, nor lint, nor loom,
Nor shuttle, nor loom have I to weave,
Nor lint, nor loom, nor shuttle, nor loom,
Yet wait till I weave fine linen for thee, love,
Wait today until tomorrow.

* pronounced: ho-ro aitch-e-can a-rin hu-o
Note: Weaving song from the Hebrides. Translated from the Gaelic
by Marjorie Kennedy-Fraser and Kenneth Macleod, in 1917. From
Folk Songs of England etc., Cole

RG