Alexander, Duke of Gordon (1743–1827)

THERE’S cauld kail in Aberdeen,

And castocks in Sta’bogie;

Gin I ha’e but a bonnie lass,

Ye’re welcome to your cogie.

And ye may sit up a’ the night,

And drink till it be braid daylight;

Gi’e me a lass baith clean and tight

To dance the reel o’ Bogie.

In cotillons the French excell;

John Bull loves the country dances;

The Spaniards dance fandangoes well;

Mynheer an allemande prances;

In foursome reels the Scots delight,

At threesomes they dance wondrous light,

But twasomes ding a’ out o’ sight,

Dance to the reel o’ Bogie.

Come lads, and view your partners weel;

Wale each a blithesome rogie;

I’ll tak’ this lassie to mysel’,

She looks sae keen and vogie.

Now, piper lads, bang up the spring,

The country fashion is the thing,

To pree their mou’s ere we begin

To dance the reel o’ Bogie.

Now ilka lad has got a lass

Save yon auld doited fogey,

And ta’en a fling upon the grass,

As they do in Sta’bogie.

But a’ the lasses look sae fain,

We canna think oursel’s to hain,

For they maun ha’e their come again,

To dance the reel o’ Bogie.

Now a’ the lads ha’e done their best,

Like true men o’ Ska’bogie;

We’ll stop a while, and tak’ a rest,

And tipple out a cogie.

Come now, my lads, and tak’ your glass,

And try ilk ither to surpass,

In wishing health to every lass

To dance the reel o’ Bogie.