THE PORTREE KID
As recorded by the Corries

A man came riding oot the west
One wild and stormy day
He was quiet, lean and hungry
His eyes were smoky grey
He was lean across the hurdies
But his shooders they were big
The terror o' the hieland glens
That was the Portree kid

Chorus:
Heedrum ho, heedrum hay
The teuchter that cam' frae Skye.

His sidekick was an orra man
And Oh! but he was mean.
He was called the midnight ploughboy
And he cam' frae Aberdeen.
He had twenty-seven notches
On his cromach, so they say
And he killed a million Indians
Way up in Stornaway.

Portree booted in the door
He sauntered tae the bar
He poured a shot o' Crabbies
He shouted "slainthe bha"
While Midnight was being chatted up
By a bar room girl called Pam
She said "Well howdy stranger.
Would ye buy us a Babycham?"

Now over in the corner sat
Three men frae Auchtertool.
They were playin games for money
In a snakes and ladders school.
The fourth man was a southerner
Who'd come up from MacMerry.
He'd been a river gambler
On the Ballachulish Ferry

Portree walked tae the table
And he shouted "Shake me in "
He shoogled on the eggcup
He gave the dice a spin
He threw seven sixes in a row
And the game was nearly done
But then he landed on a snake
And finished on square one.

The game was nearly over
And Portree was daein' fine
He'd landed on a ladder
He was up tae forty-nine.
He only had but one to go
And the other man was beat
When the gambler cowped the board up
And shouted "You're a cheat!"

Men dived behind the rubber plants
Tae try and save their skins
The accordionist stopped playing
His sidekick dropped the spoons.
He said "I think it's funny
Ye've been up that ladder twice
And ye ayeways dunt the table
When I go to throw ma dice"

The gambler drew his sgian dhu
As fast as lightning speed
Portree grabbed a screw-tap
He cracked him o'er the heid
And then he gave him laldy
Wi' a salmon aff the wa'
And he finished aff the business
Wi' his lucky grouse foot's claw.

Portree walked up tae the bar
He said "I'll hae a hauf
And dae ye like the way I stuck it on
That wee Macmerry nyaff.
But the southerner crept up behind
His features wracked wi' pain
And gubbed him wi' an ashtray
Made oot o' curling stane.

The fight went raging on all night
Till opening time next day.
Wi' a break for stew and stovies
Aff a coronation tray.
It was getting kinda obvious
That neither man would win
When came the shout that stopped it a'
"There's a bus trip coming in"

They sing this song in Galashiels
And up by Peterhead
Way down o'er the border
Across the Rio Tweed.
About what became of Portree,
Midnight and the gambling man;
They opened up a gift shop
Selling fresh air in a can.


A wee bittie culture for the masses.
Giok