I have travelled round this country, from shore to shining shore,
From the swamps of Auchterderren, tae the jungles o’ Lochore,
But in a’ these far flung places, there’s none that can compare,
Wi’ the lily o’ Lumphinans, she’s ma lovely Maggie Blair.
O’ she’s just a Kelty clippie, she’ll no tak nae advice,
It’s ach drap deid, awa bile yer heid, or I’ll punch yer ticket twice,
Her faither’s jist a waister, her mithers on the game,
She’s just a Kelty clippie, but I love her just the same.
Fae the pyramids up in Kelty, tae the mansions in Glencraig,
We’ve trod the bings together, in many’s the blithe stravaig,
Watched the sun rise over Crosshill, trod Buckavens golden sands,
And many’s the happy night we’ve spent in Lochgelly’s happy land.
Noo she hasn’ae got nae culture, she drives me round the bend,
She sits allnight in her old armchair reading the peoples friend,
Her lapels is full o’ badges, fae Butlins doon at Ayr,
And she gangs tae the bingo every night, wi’ the curlers in her hair.
Well I met her on the 8.15, that night o’ romantic bliss,
I says hey Mag whit’s in yer bag, gie’s a wee bit kiss,
Noo she didn’ae tak that kindly, she didn’ae like ma chaff,
And being a contrary kind o’ lass, she says c’mon get aff.
Well things are a wee bit better noo, I’ve gone and bought the ring,
I won it fae Jim at the pitch and toss, last night at the Lindsay bing,
Wi’ her wee black bag and ticket machine, she did ma heart ensnare,
She’s the lily o’ Lumphinans, She’s ma bonnie Maggie Blair.
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