The Whore of Rannoch Moor, an original by Gerard Cairney

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The words
Dressed in rags a sight to behold
Charges a guinea or a nugget of gold
Hidden in the heather she comes out at night
Truly a treasure but her face is a fright
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
A happy ending is not guaranteed
An ordinary man has an insatiable need
Buy her a drink, you'll get more than you think
Her roving eye and a cheeky wee wink
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
If she's Breakish she'll perform for a meal
A plate of soup will reward you a feel
A porterhouse steak will get you a ride
Just don't put the willy protection aside
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor
This lady's heart would never be broken
After years her crack was hardened & swollen
She lay to rest on a slab in the church
Cos a nasty disease had rotted her crutch
Oh the whore, the whore, the whore of Rannoch moor