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One Sunday morn as I roved out
Wi' the road being dark and dusty-o
Well, a friend and I stepped in to an inn
For a horn of Jenny Gray's whisky-o

Ah, for Jean she keeps the Royal Blue
And the best of all Scots whisky too
No cordial cure is half so pure
As a horn of Jenny Gray′s whisky-o.

Now there's some that likes to quarrel and fight
Whenever they get tipsy-o
Ah, but gie me a lass and a full flowin' glass
Filled up wi' a horn of whiskey-o

Ah, for Jean she keeps the Royal Blue
And the best of all Scots whisky too
No cordial cure is half so pure
As a horn of Jenny Gray′s whisky-o.

So come all you misers great and small
For your gold is gettin' dusty-o
Don't sit and think but come and drink
From a horn of Jenny Gray's whisky-o

Ah, for Jean she keeps the Royal Blue
And the best of all Scots whisky too
No cordial cure is half so pure
As a horn of Jenny Gray′s whisky-o.

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