(Trad)
Saw ye Rory Murphy, Rory Murphy, Rory Murphy
Saw ye Rory Murphy, piper o' Dumbarton
Now Rory was a piper guid
As ever came o' Hieland blood
And lowland buddies' hearts aye glowed
To the tunes of Rory Murphy
He filled the warriors' breasts wi' fire
He pleased the heart o' sage and sire
Made the listening groups admire
As he gae'd through Dumbarton
His beard was made o' lammer gloss
His sparkling eye as black's a sloe's
His cheeks were fresher than the rose
And the nose as red's a partan
When Rory drank an extra gill
He made his chanter sound so shrill
You'd hear him on Ben Lomond hill
As clear as in Dumbarton
But whisky proved to him a fey
While stottering hame mair drunk each day
Fell tapsalteerie doon the brae
That left him deid for certain
Nae mair he'll blow his Highland drones
Nae mair we'll hear his witching tones
His banes lie cauld beneath the stones
In the kirkyard o' Dumbarton
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