Cam ye o’er frae France? Cam ye doon by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps, And his bonnie woman?
Were ye at the place, Called the Kittle Housie?
Saw ye Geordie’s grace, A-ridin’ on a goosie?
Geordie, he’s a man, There is little doot o’t,
He’s done a’ he can, All can dae wi’oot it,
Yon there cams a blade, Linkin’ like ma lordie,
He wad drive a trade, At the loom o’ Geordie.
Though the claith were bad, Blythly may we niffer
Gin we git oor wab, It makes little differ,
We hae lost oor plaid, Bonnets, belt and swordie
Ha’s and mailin’s braid, But we hae oor Geordie.
Jocky’s gone to France, And Montgomery’s lady
There they’ll learn to dance; Madam, are ye ready?
They’ll be back belyve, Belted brisk and lordly,
Brawly, may they thrive, To dance a jig wi’ Geordie!
Hey for Sandy Don, Hey for Cockalorum,
Hey for Bobbin’ John, And his Hielan’ quorum!
Many’s a sword and lance, Swung at Hielan hurdie;
How they’ll skip and dance, O’er the bum o’ Geordie!