Tekster:
Craig Herbertson A Health To The Ladies

'd a known before I courted, I never would have courted none, I'd a locked my heart in a box of golden, And fastened it up with a silver pin. I wish

below. She's my beauteous nighean ruadh, she's my joy and sorrow too; Though I own she is not true, ah, but I cannot live without her. For my heart's a

lad That the lichtbobs I?m tae follow. Feather beds are saft, Painted rooms are bonnie; I will leave them a?, An? jog awa? wi? Johnnie. Oh, my back?s been sair, Shearin? Craigie

are doubly blessed Their beauty and wit never fails to impress And they tend tae look grand in a state of undress Here?s a health to the ladies When

It was a cold dark morning when I bid Tranent adieu I braved the snow to Fisherow tae Stags for a pint or two Then in you walked as bold as brass wi a

pit on my goon o green It's a forsaken token That will let the other lads know That the bands of love are broken. There's mony a horse has snapper't

Green grow the rashes O, Green grow the rashes O, The feather-bed is no sae saft As a bed amang the rashes O. We're a' dry wi' drinkin' o't, We're a'

spring Thy flowers the summer's pride There was nae sic a bonnie tree In a' the country side Oh rowan tree How fair you were in summer time Wi' a'thy

Curse Queen Bess and worse John Knox They shall rot, they shall rot Any pray for Mary Queen of Scots 2. Black night, pale Quean, Paler than a swan