| The Maid Of Fife | 
| There once was a troop of Irish dragoons | 
| Come marching down thru Fife-y, O | 
| And the captain feel in love with a very bonnie lass | 
| And the name she was called was pretty Peggy-o | 
| There’s many a bonnie lass in the glen of Auchterlass | 
| There’s many a bonnie lass in Gairioch-o | 
| There’s many a bonnie Jean in the streets of Aberdeen | 
| But the flower of them all lives in Fife-y, O | 
| O come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy, my dear | 
| Come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy-o | 
| Come down the stairs, comb back your yellow hair | 
| Bid a long farewell to your mammy-o | 
| It’s braw, aye it’s braw, a captain’s lady for to be | 
| And it’s braw to be a captain’s lady-o | 
| It’s braw to ride around and to follow the camp | 
| And to ride when your captain he is ready-o | 
| O I’ll give you ribbons, love, and I’ll give you rings | 
| I’ll give you a necklace of amber-o | 
| I’ll give you a silken petticoat with flounces to the knee | 
| If you’ll convey me doon to your chamber-o | 
| What would your mother think if she heard the guineas clink | 
| And saw the haut-boys marching all before you o | 
| O little would she think gin she heard the guineas clink | 
| If I followed a soldier laddie-o | 
| I never did intend a soldier’s lady for to be | 
| A soldier shall never enjoy me-o | 
| I never did intend to gae tae a foreign land | 
| And I will never marry a soldier-o | 
| I’ll drink nae more o your claret wine | 
| I’ll drink nae more o your glasses-o | 
| Tomorrow is the day when we maun ride away | 
| So farewell tae your Fyvie lasses-o | 
| The colonel he cried, mount, boys, mount, boys, mount | 
| The captain, he cried, tarry-o | 
| O tarry yet a while, just another day or twa | 
| Til I see if the bonnie lass will marry-o | 
| Twas in the early morning, when we marched awa | 
| And O but the captain he was sorry-o | 
| The drums they did beat a merry brasselgeicht | 
| And the band played the bonnie lass of Fife-y, O | 
| Long ere we came to the glen of Auchterlass | 
| We had our captain to carry-o | 
| And long ere we won into the streets of Aberdeen | 
| We had our captain to bury-o | 
| Green grow the birks on bonnie Ethanside | 
| And low lie the lowlands of Fife-y, O | 
| The captain’s name was Ned and he died for a maid | 
| He died for the bonny lass of Fife-y, O |