THE LADY OF THE LOOM

A lady sat beside her loom,
	With yarns of every hue;
To weave Cape Breton tartan
	She only chose a few.

Black for the wealth of our coal mines,
	Grey for our Cape Breton steel,
Green for our lofty mountains,
	Our valleys and our fields.

Gold for the golden sunsets
	Shining bright on the lakes of Bras d’Or,
To show God’s hand hath lingered
	To bless Cape Breton’s shores.

As she watched the pattern grow,
	Then she could understand -
Her shuttle had been guided
	By the Master Weaver’s hand.

Return to previous page