(Alan Reid)
Chorus:
Whisky is a devil jaud that burns the brains of man
He'll dance or stagger, sing or fight, he'll argue black and blue is white
The fairmer's wife, the widow and the weary working man
They fill the air with curses on that devil uisge beatha
He watches for the gauger man that prowls the countryside
He hides his liquid treasure, then waits for night and rides
O'er the Torrance burn tae Glesca where there's plenty that will buy her
She's that sweet forbidden devil uisge beatha
A band of wild marauders in the colours of Colquhoun
Were camped above the Campsie Moors above the Lennoxtoon
The folk below were soon to know they were Clan Gregor men
When they came sweeping doon the Campsie Glen
They scattered a' before them, a' the weemin and the bairns
They chased the fairming workers and the fairmers tae their hames
They gathered up the cattle and they camped aside the hill
And there they found the hidden whisky still
The Campsie men assembled then tae see what could be done
But shepherd lads and cottars cannae match a hieland band
They cursed the thieving reivers and their heathen hieland cries
As they drank their fill aneath the evening skies
Whisky is a devil jaud that burns the brains o' men
For in the night the hieland men fell drunk upon the ground
The Campsie men crept up to them and slew them as they lay
And a' was back in order by the day
There's stills above the clachan, there's stills aroond the fells
There's stills aboot the countryside nae gaugerman can smell
But the one that snared the Gregor was mair valuable than ten
Tae the honest fairmers o' the Campsie Glen
Last chorus:
Whisky is a devil jaud that burns the brains of man
He'll dance or stagger, sing or fight, he'll argue black and blue is white
The fairmer's wife, the widow and the weary working man
They fill the air with blessings on that devil uisge beatha