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