THE WHITE COCKADE
My love was born in Aberdeen,
The bonniest lad that e’er was seen,
But now he makes our hearts fu’ sad . . .
He takes the field wi’ his White Cockade
O, he’s a ranting, roving lad,
He is a brisk an’ a bonnie lad;
Betide what may, I will be wed
And follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade!
I’ll sell my rock, my reel, my tow,
My guid grey mare and hawkit cow,
To buy mysel’ a tartan plaid,
To follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade
O, he’s a ranting, roving lad,
He is a brisk an’ a bonnie lad;
Betide what may, I will be wed
And follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade!