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As I went out by Huntley town one evening for to fee |
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With Bogie O' Cairnie and with him I did agree |
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To mind his two best horses or cart or harrow or plow |
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Or anything about farmwork that I very well should know |
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Old Bogie had a daughter, her name was Isabelle |
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She's the lily of the valley and the primrose of the dell |
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And when she went out walking she took me for her guide |
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Down by the burn of Cairnie for to watch the small fish glide |
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When three long months were passed and gone, this lassie lost her bloom |
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The red fell from her rosy cheeks, and her eyes began to swoon |
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Nine long months had passed and gone, she bore to me a son |
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And I was quickly sent for to see what could be done |
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I said that I would marry her, but no, that would not do |
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For you're not a match for my bonnie girl, and she's not a match for you |
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Now she's married to a tinker lad that comes from Huntley town |
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He sells pots and pans and paraffin lamps and he scours the country 'round |
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Now maybe she's had a better match, Bogie can nae tell |
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So farewell, ye lads o' Huntley town and to Bogie's bonnie belle |
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So farewell, ye lads o' Huntley town and to Bogie's bonnie belle |
