One Sunday morn as I rode out
with the road bein' dark and dusty-oh,
well a friend and I stepped into an inn
for a horn o' Jenny Grey's whiskey-oh.
CHORUS:
Of her gin she keeps the royal blue
and the best of all Scots whiskey too,
No cordial cure is half so pure
as a horn o' Jenny Grey's whiskey-oh.
Now there's some that likes tae quarrel and bite
whenever they get tipsy-oh,
ah but gie me a lass and full flowin' glass
filled up with a horn o' whiskey-oh.
So come all ye misers great and small
for your gold is gettin' dusty-oh,
don't sit and think but come and drink
of a horn o' Jenny Grey's whiskey-oh.
One Sunday morn as I rode out
with the road bein' dark and dusty-oh,
well a friend and I stepped into an inn
for a horn o' Jenny Grey's whiskey-oh.
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