The Book of Scottish Song/The Cogie 2

The Cogie.

[Daniel M'Phail, (see p. 192.)—Tune, "Loch-Erroch Side."]

Let bardies tune the rural strain,
And sing the loves o' nymph or swain,
Or mourn the hapless lover's pain,
⁠That's slighted by his dearie.
But me, nae tale o' love-sick dame,
Shall lighten to the paths o' fame,
My dearest joy, my only theme,
⁠Shall be a social cogie.

In morn o' life, wi' cantie glee,
We mark wi' youthfu' fancy's e'e,
Our daddies roun' the barley bree,
⁠Fu' couth an' unco cheerie.
But when to manhood's height we speel,
An' meet through life some hearty chiel,
In friendship's glow, it's then we feel,
⁠The pleasures o' the cogie.

Through life, when fortune turns her wheel,
And ruin's blast blaws roun' our biel,
Nae frien'ly han' then near to shiel,
⁠But a' gae tapsalteerie;
E'en then, wi' some leal-hearted frien',
Wha's life ance happier days ha'e seen,
We baith on hope our sorrows lean,
⁠And cry, "anither cogie."

See lyart age, wi' joyless years,
On life's dark brink wi' dowie fears,
Nae fostering hope his bosom cheers,
⁠The prospect's dark an' drearie:
E'en then, when tales o' auld langsyne
Bring youthfu' cantie days to min',
Mang former joys our cares we tyne,
⁠An' toom the cheering cogie.

Thus ilka scene o' life we see,
Is strongly mark'd wi' social glee;
Then let us taste the joys that flee—
⁠In youth or age be cheerie.
Then roun' when social spirits join,
An' hearts an' han's in friendship twine,
Owre whiskey, nappy yill, or wine,
⁠'Tis still a social cogie.

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