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MY LOVE WAS BORN IN ABERDEEN.
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, la He is a brisk an' a bonny 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 gude grey mare, and hawkit cow, To buy myself a tartan plaid, To follow the boy wi' the white cockade. O he's a ranting, &c.
THE HIGHLAND PLAID. Lowland lassie, wilt thou go Where the hills are clad wi' snow, Where, beneath the icy steep, The hardy shepherd tends his sleep? Ill nor wae shall thee betide, When row'd within my Highland Plaid.
Soon the voice of cheerie spring, Will gar a' our plantins ring; Soon our bonnie heather braes, Will put on their summer claes ;
