| There stands three trumpeters on yon hill
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| Blaw their trumpets sae loud and shrill
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Gin I’d his trumpet in my kist
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| And were in the lad’s arms that I like best
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Gin ye would be wed wi' me
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| There’s ae thing ye maun dae for me
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| I maun hae a fine linen sark
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| Without a stitch o' needlewark
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Ye maun wash it in yon draw-well
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| Where water never sprang nor fell
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Ye maun drt’t on yon hawthorn
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| That hasna seen blossom since man was born
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Gin I mak’a sark for thee
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| There’s ae thing ye maun tae me dae
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| My faither has an acre o' land
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| Ye maun ploo it wi' your ae hand
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Ye maun sow it wantin' corn
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| And roll it wi' a sheep’s shank-bone
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Ye maun shear it wi' a scythe o' leather
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| And bind it wi' a peacock’s feather
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| Ye maun stook it in the sea
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| And bring the whaetsheaf dry tae me
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa'
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| And gin you wark noo all this wark
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| Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
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| Come to me and you’ll get your sark
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| And the wind blaws aye my plaid awa' |