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's taen the field wi' his white cockade.

O, he's a rantin' rovin' blade,

He's a brisk and bonnie lad,

Betide what may, my heart is glad

To see my lad wi' his white cockade.

Oh leeze me on the philabeg

The hairy hough and garten'd leg;

But aye the thing that blinds my ee,

The white cockade aboun the bree.

O, he's a rantin' rovin' blade,

He's a brisk and bonnie lad,

Betide what may, my heart is glad

To see my lad wi' his white cockade.

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,

My rippling-kame and spinning wheel,

To buy my lad a tartan plaid,

A braidsword, dirk, and white cockade.

O, he's a rantin' rovin' blade,

He's a brisk and bonnie lad,

Betide what may, my heart is glad

To see my lad wi' his white cockade.

I'll sell my rokelay and my tow,

My good grey mare and hawkit cow,

that every loyal Buchan lad

May tak the field wi the white cockade.

O, he's a rantin' rovin' blade,

He's a brisk and bonnie lad,

Betide what may, my heart is glad

To see my lad wi' his white cockade.