When I've done my work of day,
And I row my boat away,
Doon the waters of Loch Tay,
As the evening light is fading
And I look upon Ben Lawers
Where the after glory glows;
And I think on two bright eyes
And the melting mouth below.

She's my beauteous [bad word] 
She's my joy and sorrow too;
And although she is [bad word] 
Well I cannot live without her,
For my heart's a boat in tow,
And I'd give the world to know
Why she means to let me go,
As I sing horee horo.

 [bad word]  your lovely hair
Has more glamour I declare
Than all the tresses rare
'tween Killin and Aberfeldy.
Be they lint white, brown or gold,
Be they blacker than the sloe,
They are worth no more to me
Than the melting flake of snow.

Her eyes are like the gleam
O' the sunlight on the stream;
And the songs the fairies sing
Seem like songs she sings at milking.
But my heart is full of woe,
For last night she bade me go
And the tears begin to flow,
As I sing horee, horo.

She's my beauteous [bad word] 
She's my joy and sorrow too
And although she is [bad word] 
Well I cannot live without her.
For my heart's a boat in tow
And I'd give the world to know,
Why she means to let me go
As I sing horee horo.