PLOUGHING A TROLL By Hanna Maclagan

There once was a farmer from old Flotsam town Who was tired of sowing his seeds on the ground
He went for a wander and walked till the dawn Till a wanton old she troll he stumbled upon

And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll! The gods only know how the key fits the hole
Around in the stinking great den they did roll And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll!

The farmer he knew it was love at first sight, They ploughed through the morning and into the night
With teeth rotten black and a rank leather hide This hideous creature his bestial bride.

And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll! The gods only know how the key fits the hole
A cavernous cave for his puny old pole And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll!

After time his excitement it started to droop He groaned at her farts and her cold onion soup
The troll fixed his eye with a scowl made of stone And when the guards came around all they found were his bones

And a hey-ho he was ploughing a troll! The gods only know ho
w the key fit the hole
No burial mound and no rest for his soul Because hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!

And a hey-ho he was ploughing a troll! The gods only know how the key fit the hole
A dirty auld tale from the bed to the bowl Because hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!
A song for the ages