The women of Barra sing this waulking song in the course of shrinking a web of cloth: Ho, my sweetheart! Hey, my sweetheart! Hey!, my sweetheart is the new one! Cries my sweetheart Gille Callum, Steersman of the 'Oak' am I He, mo leannan, seaman daring, climbeth to the mast top high Running upsea to the windward, running down with a sidelie Sweetheart mine, the youthful frolic, hard should I his love put by. Ho! Mo leannan. He! Mo leannan. 'Se mo leannan am fear ur. Sorrow take them, those young sweethearts, Some of them are shy and sly Others come with clank and music, full of luring while we're nigh I advise you, all young lasses, keep three sweethearts in your eye And if one of them forsake you, two for you still hopeful sigh.
