Original lyrics adapted by
John Henderson into the doric and to suit this version of the tune.
She's jist a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak nae advice;
It's, 'Ach drap deid or bile yer heid, Ah'll punch yer ticket twice';
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's oan the game;
She's jist a Kelty clippie bit Ah love her jist the same.
Ah've traivelled thru this country frae shore tae shinin shore,
Frae the swamps o' Auchterderran tae the jungles o' Lochore,
But in aa thase far-flung places there's nane thit can compare,
Wi' the 'Lily of Lumphinnans', she's ma bonnie Maggie Blair.
Frae the pyramids up in Kelty tae the mansions in Glencraig,
We've trod the bings thegither in mony a blythe stravaig;
We've watched the moon owr Crosshill, trod Buckha'en's golden sand,
An mony's the happy oor we've spent in Lochgelly's Happy Land.
Ah remember oan the 8.15, a nicht o' romantic bliss;
Ah says, 'Ho there Mag, nip yer fag, an gie's a wee bit kiss.'
She didnae tak this kindly, naw didnae like ma chaff;
Bein a contrary kind o' bird she said, 'Awa Come oan, git aff'.
She hisnae got nae culture, she drives me roon the bend,
Sits doon there in her armchair an reads the People's Friend;
Her lapels are fu o badges frae Butlins doon at Ayr,
Gings tae the bingo ev'ry nicht wi her curlers in her hair.
Bit things is a wee bit better noo, Ah've goan an got the ring;
Ah wan it frae Jim at pitch an toss, last nicht oan Lindsay Bing;
Wi her wee black hat an tickets, ma hairt she did ensnare;
She's the 'Lily of Lumphinnans', she's ma bonnie Maggie Blair.
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