The earliest printed copy of this ballad is in the Pepsian
collection dated circa 167O, but the folktale "The Clever Wench"
is generally recognised as the archetype. The theme also occurs
in the Gesta Romanorum, a Latin collection of anecdotes and tales
compiled in the early 14th-century in England. Of the twelve
texts given by Child, eight are Scots, three are English and one
is North American. More than half of the fifty-three texts given
by Bronson are North American and of the rest most are
English.
| 1 |
There stands three trumpeters on yon hill,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
And they blew their trumpets sae loud and shrill
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
blow |
| 2 |
Gin I'd his trumpet in my kist
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
And was in the lad'a airms that I like best,
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
if, chest |
| 3 |
Gin ye would be wed wi me;
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
There's ae thing ye maun dae for me.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
one, must, do |
| 4 |
Ye maun mak' me a linen sark,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
Without a stitch o' needlewark.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
shirt |
| 5 |
Ye maun wash it in yon draw-well,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
Where water never sprang nor fell.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 6 |
Ye maun dry't on yon hawthorn,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
That never saw blossom since Adam was born,
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 7 |
And gin I mak' a sark for thee,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
There's ae thing ye maun dae for me.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 8 |
My faither has an acre o' land,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
Ye maun ploo it wi' your ae hand.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 9 |
Ye maun sow it wantin' corn,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
And roll it wi' a sheep's shank-bone.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 10 |
Ye maun shear it wi' a scythe o' leather,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
And bind it wi' a peacock's feather.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
| 11 |
Ye maun stook it in the sea
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
And bring the wheatsheaf dry to me.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
stack |
| 12 |
And gin ye dae noo a' this wark,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds blaw.
Come to me and you'll get your sark.
And the wind it blows my plaid awa'. |
|
