Cauld Kail in Aberdeen

There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen,
There 's castocks in Strabogie;
And morn and e'en, they 're blythe and bein,
That haud them frae the cogie.
Now, haud ye frae the cogie, lads;
O bide ye frae the cogie!
I 'll tell ye true, ye 'll never rue,
O' passin' by the cogie.

Young Will was braw and weel put on,
Sae blythe was he and vogie;
And he got bonnie Mary Don,
The flower o' a' Strabogie.
Wha wad hae thocht, at wooin' time,
He 'd e'er forsaken Mary,
And ta'en him to the tipplin' trade,
Wi' boozin' Rob and Harry?

Sair Mary wrought, sair Mary grat,
She scarce could lift the ladle;
Wi' pithless feet, 'tween ilka greet,
She 'd rock the borrow'd cradle.
Her weddin' plenishin' was gane,
She never thocht to borrow:
Her bonnie face was waxin' wan--
And Will wrought a' the sorrow.

He 's reelin' hame ae winter's nicht,
Some later than the gloamin';
He 's ta'en the rig, he 's miss'd the brig,
And Bogie 's ower him foamin'.
Wi' broken banes, out ower the stanes,
He creepit up Strabogie;
And a' the nicht he pray'd wi' micht,
To keep him frae the cogie.

Now Mary's heart is light again--
She 's neither sick nor silly;
For auld or young, nae sinfu' tongue,
Could e'er entice her Willie;
And aye the sang through Bogie rang--
"O had ye frae the cogie;
The weary gill 's the sairest ill
On braes o' fair Strabogie."