As I went o'er yon meadow, 
And carelessly passed along,
I listen'd with pleasure to Jenny,
While mournfully singing this song:
The mucking of Geordie's byer,
And the shooling the gruip sae clean,
Has aft gart me spend the night sleepless,
And brought the saut tears in my een.

It was not my father's pleasure,
Nor was it my mither's desire,
That ever I puddl'd my fingers
Wi' the mucking o' Geordie's byer.

The mucking etc.

Though the roads were ever sae filthy,
Or the day sae scoury and foul,
I wou'd ay be ganging wi' Geordie,
I lik'd it far better that school.

The mucking etc.

My brither abuses me daily
For being wi' Geordie sae free,
My sister she ca's me hood-winked,
Because he's below my degree.

The mucking etc.

But weel do I like my young Geordie,
Altho' he was cunning and slee;
He ca's me his dear and his honey
And I am sure that my Geordie loo's me.

The mucking etc.