BLOW YE WINDS BLOW

Blow Ye Winds Blow

He: You must make me a fine Holland shirt,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
And not have in it a stitch of needlework,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

He: You must wash it in yonder spring,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
Where there’s never a drop of water in,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

He: You must dry it on yonder thorn,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
Where the sun never yet shone on
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

She: My father’s got an acre of land,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
You must dig it with a goose quill,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

She: You must sow it with one seed,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
You must reap it with your thumbnail,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

She: You must thrash it on yonder sea,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
And not get it wet or let a kernel be,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

She: You must grind it on yonder hill,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
Where there yet has ne’er stood a mill,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.

She: When you’re done and finished your work,
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds, blow,
Bring it unto me and you shall have your shirt,
Blow, ye winds that arise, blow, blow.