The people cried her Jennie o the Braes
An she wis weel-kent tae us aa.
Her ganglin body, hingin oot her claithes,
Made her stan oot when
she strode doon the braes.
Twa days a week, she'd come visitin the toon;
She'd tak the braes rain, hail or shine;
Her silver hair wuid be fleein in the wind
An' folk thocht her a craiture mad or wild

When ice an snaw gripped aa the kintry,
Ye'd see the smoak rise frae her chimney;
The world ablaw cuid then rest easy
for Jennie o' the Braes