As I get in by Huntly Toon,
in Mornin' Fort of Fee,
I fell in with Bogey and Kearney,
and with him I did agree.
Take all his two best horses,
or Kirt,
or Harry,
or Blue,
or Dionethan,
a boot firm work,
I very well could.
Now Bogey had a daughter,
and her name was Isabel,
she was the flower o'er the valley,
and the primrose o'er the dale.
And when she gadoed to walkin',
she chose me for her guide,
down by the burn o' Kearney,
to watch small fishes glide.
The first three months been past and dour,
and the slussy lost her bloom,
and the red fell free her rosy cheeks,
and her eyes began to swoon.
When nine long months were past and gain,
she brought forth to me a son,
and I was quickly
called for to see what could be done.
I said that I would marry her,
but no, that wouldn't a do,
for yer no a match for my bonnie
belle,
and she's no a match for you.
Well now she's married to a tinkler chill,
who
abides in hauntly tune,
he mends pots and pans and parthen lamps,
and he scours the country
Ay,
and maybe she's got a better lad,
old Bogey canna tell,
so far will yer lad's a hauntly side,
and Bogey's bonnie belle.