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One night near the grand Central Station |
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Among crowds that were hurrying by |
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I happened to see Meggy Bensin |
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And sairly the lassie did cry |
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Says I, canny lass what's the matter? |
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Says she, quite dejected, I's sad |
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I'm grieving for Jack, that's my lover |
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My bonny bit Gallowgate lad |
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You'll know him, Joe isn't he handsome? |
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As clever a lad as you'll see |
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He was striker at Stivvisin's Factory |
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But lately he's been on the spree |
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He got baged for getting on the fuddle |
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Oh I think he mun fairly gone mad |
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When he went and he's joined the Militia |
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My bonny bit Gallowgate lad |
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All the neighbours declared he was lazy |
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But spite'll make bissy folks speek |
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Though I know, though I oughtn't to mention |
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He never worked more than a week |
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But with folks gone keep quiet their faillings |
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I grieve for my love that's a swad |
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Oh, his best o' claes are his soldier's |
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My brave-looking Gallowgate lad |
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Man I've mended the holes in his elbows |
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And made his old trousers like new |
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Well I thought he might spoke about marriage |
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When his grandfather bought him a coo |
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But he selled it and spent all his money |
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And folks said that his love was but cawd |
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Oh I wish that I couldn't believe them |
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My curly haired Gallowgate lad |
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I was fairly heart-broke since he left us |
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I cannot live well be myself |
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And my tongue gans as though it would keep telling |
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A long way more than I should tell |
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When the heart's full it's great consolation |
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To whisper what makes you so bad |
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Oh what made you join the Militia? |
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My good-looking Gallowgate lad |
