Here's what I think she's singing. I've changed night back to neet just for the rhyme. The only word I'm not sure of is brests, which I take to be a word for beasts, but it might be bress.

Mick

---

GEORDIE GILL

Of all the lads I see you know there's one I like above the rest
He's nicer in his weekday clothes than others dressed all in their best
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it to who she will
If I had ten where I have none I'd give them all to Geordie Gill

Who was it stole the landlord's fruit for me when then's we went to school
Who was it dared go mid-thigh deep to fetch my coat out of the pool
And when the fairlie flung me off and long and long I lay so ill
Who watched o'er me both night and day and wished me well? It was Geordie Gill

Oft mounted on his long-tailed nag with fine new boots up to his knee
The laird's daft son lights in the yard and bows and scrapes to worry me
Though father, mother, uncle too, to wed this booby tease me still
Though oft I hear of his lands and brests (bress?) I still steal out to Geordie Gill

From Carlisle Cousin Fanny came and brought a white-faced sweetheart down
With short neck stuck above his looks a poor thin fellow from the town
Well he minced and he walked and he skipped and he talked, got tired going up the hill
And looked as pale as any corpse compared to rosy Geordie Gill

My Geordie's whistle well I know long e'er we meet the darkest neet
And when he lilts and sings "Skewball", no playhouse music's half as sweet
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it who she will
I had one once but now I've none for it belongs to Geordie Gill.


Source: Anni Fentiman, on Dave Webber/Anni Fentiman CD Together Solo