Mudcat Café message #3873044 The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #11898   Message #3873044
Posted By: Jim Dixon
21-Aug-17 - 11:40 PM
Thread Name: 'Conversation' songs
Subject: Lyr Add: COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE
This is a more complete version than the one posted by Indy Lass above. Note that it has 2 more verses, and in them, we get to see how Johnny feels about the matter. And, of course, the spelling is different.

From The Pocket Encyclopedia of Scottish, English, and Irish Songs, Vol. 1 (Glasgow: Andrew & James Duncan, 1816), page 61:


COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE.
Tune—"Johnnie Macgill."

Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa';
Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift and the snaw;
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me;
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
I'll hap ye frae ev'ry cauld blast that can blaw:
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.

Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie! auld Donald, gae 'wa,
I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw;
Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie! I'll no sit beside ye;
Ye might be my gutcher:—auld Donald, gae 'wa,
I'm gaun to meet Johnnie, he's young and he's bonnie;
He's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig and fu' braw!
O nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly,
His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw!

Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa',
Your Jock's but a gowk, and has naething ava;
The hale o' his pack he has now on his back;
He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.
Be frank now and kin'ly, I'll busk ye aye finely;
To kirk or to market they'll few gang sae braw;
A bien house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'.

My father ay tauld me, my mither and a',
Ye'd mak a gude husband, and keep me ay braw;
It's true I loo Johnnie, he's young and he's bonnie,
But, waes me, I ken, he has naething ava!
1 hae little tocher, ye've made a gude offer;
I'm nae mair than twenty; my time is but sma'!
Sae gie me your plaidie, I'll creep in beside ye,
I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa!

She crap in ayont him, beside the stane wa',
Whare Johnnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a':
The day was appointed!—his proud heart it dunted,
And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.
He wander'd hame wearie, the night it was drearie,
And, thowless, he tint his gate 'mang the deep snaw:
The howlet was screamin', while Johnnie cried, Women
Wad marry auld Nick if he'd keep-them ay braw.

O the deil's in the lasses! they gang now sae braw,
They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa;
The hale o' their marriage is gowd and a carriage;
Plain love is the cauldest blast now that can blaw.
Auld dotards, be wary! tak tent wha ye marry,
Young wives wi' their coaches they'll whup and they'll ca',
Till they meet wi' some Johnnie that's youthfu' and bonnie,
And they'll gie ye a horn on ilk haffet to claw.

[You can see a tune for this song in The Songs of Scotland without Words for the Pianoforte edited by J. T. Surenne (Edinburgh: Wood and Co., 1803), page 76.]