love was born in Aberdeen,
The boniest 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 bonny lad,
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi the White Cockade.
sell my rock, my reel, my tow,
My gude gray mare and hawkit cow;
To buy mysel a tartan plaid,
To follow the boy wi the White Cockade.