In the night we who stay on the banks of La Ploma live the phony life that I love best. There's no mistake about her, I could never live without her, for there's no one ever like her in the West. She lives with her granny, her dear old granny, and very fond of her she seems to be.
Again her granny loves her, cause everybody loves her, but there's no one loves her half as much as me. I love my Jean, my bony, bony Jean, she's very fascinating, and she's only seventeen. Her hair is nice and crimpy, her cheeks are like a rose, and she comes free from this hot land where the bluebells grow.
When her and me go garting down the garden in the gloaming, underneath an aldol three, three times a week. I just slip my arm around her, and we kisses nearly droon her, and she lets me warm a chin against her cheek. She's such a dear wee dearie, so kind and cheery, and on her face there's a sunny smile.
She's what you call perfection, so made of fine selection, just to see her I would walk ten thousand miles. I love my Jean, my bony, bony Jean, she's very fascinating, and she's only seventeen. Her hair is nice and crimpy, her cheeks are like a rose, and she comes free from this hot land where the bluebells grow.
I think I'll ask her granny if she'll let me marry Jean, cause I think her granny's very fond of me. I never would offend her, cause many above I lend her, and I often give her toddy in her tea. Her granny likes a draffy, it makes her happy, she says it helps to drive away her care.
So when her granny's no day, no day drinking toddy, Jean and me just occupy the chair. I said to her granny the other night, I said, granny, there's an epidemic going about the new. She said, what is it?
I said, it's marriage-itis. Well, she said, that itis business is very dangerous, don't contract it. I said, I have, and I said, granny, Jean told me to tell you she has it too.
She said, you wee rascal, you're in love. I said, guilty. I said, granny, if your chair could speak, it could tell you a tale.
But I said, granny, I'll tell you myself. So I slipped my arms around granny's neck and sang this into her ear. I love my Jean, my bony, bony Jean.
She's very fascinating, and she's only seventeen. Her hair is nice and crimpy, her cheeks are like the roost. And she comes free bony Scotland, where the bluebells roost.
Transcribed by AI from the recording above. These are noisy hundred-year-old cylinders, so expect misheard words and the occasional invented line — trust your ears over the text.
Audio public domain, courtesy of the UCSB Cylinder Audio Archive. Transcript CC BY 4.0. Free to reuse, including commercially, with credit.
Glen Ellison recorded 1915–1928
A Canadian-Scot baritone who made some seventy recordings for Victor and Edison, and who exists on record largely because of Harry Lauder. Lauder was tied exclusively to Victor and HMV for discs, so Edison engaged Ellison to cover the Scottish repertoire — and a good many of his sides imitate Lauder closely. For a performer who recorded so much, remarkably little about him is known.
Written from UCSB Cylinder Audio Archive. Corrections welcome.