JENNY GRAY'S WHISKEY For Jenny she makes a royal brew and the best of old Scots whiskey too There's no corn will cure this heart so pure as a horn of Jenny Gray's whiskey-o As I walked out one cold, grey morn, the day being dry and dusty-o Some pals and I went into and inn for a horn of Jenny Gray's whiskey-o Come all you misers great and small, your gold is growing dusty-o Don't sit and think but come and drink of a horn of Jenny Gray's whiskey-o Now there's some that like to quarrel and to fight whenever they get frisky-o But give me a lass and a flowing glass and a horn of Jenny Gray's whiskey-o Hey nonny no Mary
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