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My 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 bonie 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 gray 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 bonie lad! Betide what may, I will be wed, And follow the boy wi' the White Cockade!