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Come Under My Plaidie

[ Roud 8694 ; Ballad Index BdCoUnMP ; trad.]

The Tannahill Weavers sang Come Under My Plaidie on their 1992 Green Linnet album The Mermaid’s Song. They noted:

And now for your further delectation, the second of the two songs regarding the choosing of a partner. It takes the form of a conversation between an old man and a young girl.

She, it seems, loves a young man who has nothing, but accepts the marriage proposal of an old man with plenty.

Leslie [Wilson], for a variety of reasons, has ended up singing both parts of this conversation. We were amazed that he could manage this because he is neither female nor has he any experience of old age (unless, of course, it comes out of a bottle) but then, as he pointed out, it shouldn’t be too complicated. Simply sing high for the female part and remember that in the male life span there are only three ages: (1) you believe in Santa Claus, (2) you don’t believe in Santa Claus, (3) you are Santa Claus.

Lyrics

The Tannahill Weavers sing Come Under My Plaidie

Come under my plaidie the nicht’s gaun tae fa’,
Come in frae the cold blast, the drift and the snaw.
Come under my plaidie and sit doon beside me,
There’s room in it lassie believe me for twa.
Come under my plaidie and sit doon beside me,
I’ll hap ye frae every cauld wind that can blaw.
Comme under my plaidie and sit doon beside me,
There’s room in it lassie believe me for twa.

Gae ’wa’ wi’ your plaidie auld Donald, gae ’a’.
I fear nae the cauld blast, the drift or the snaw.
Gae ’wa’ wi’ your plaidie, I’ll no sit beside ye,
Ye micht be my gutcher auld Donald, gae ’wa’.
I’m gaun tae meet Johnnie, he’s young and he’s bonnie,
He’s been at Meg’s bridle fu’ trig and fu’ braw.
Nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu’i, sae tightly,
His cheeks like the new rose, his brow’s like the snaw.

Dear Marion, let that flee stick tae the wa’
Your Jock’s but a gowk and has naethin’ ava’
The hale o’ his pack he has noo on his back,
He’s thirty and I am but three score an twa.
Be frank noo an’ kin’ly I’ll busk ye aye finely,
Tae kirk or tae merket they’ll few gang sae braw.
A bien hoose tae bide in, a chaise for tae ride in,
And flunkies tae tend ye as aft as ye ca’.

My faither aye tellt me, my mither an’ a’,
Ye’d mak a guid husband and keep me aye braw.
It’s true I lo’ Johnnie, he’s young and he’s bonnie,
But wae’s me I ken he has naethin’ ava’.
I hae little tocher ye’ve made a guid offer,
I’m noo mair than twenty, my time is but sma’.
Sae gie me yer plaidie, I’ll creep in beside ye,
I thocht ye’d been aulder than three score an’ twa.