Air,—“Cauld kail in Aberdeen.” 1804.
WHEN poortith caul, an sour disdain,
Hang owre life's vale sae foggie,
The sun that brichtens up the scene,
Is frien'ship's kindly coggie I
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs !
The frien'ly, social coggie !
It gars the wheels o life run licht,
To e'er sae doilt an cloggie.
Let pride in Fortune's chariot fly,
Sae empty, vain, an voggie ;
The source o wit, the spring o joy,
Lies in the social coggie !
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs !
The independent coggie !
An never snool beneath the frown
O ony selfish roggie.
Puir modest worth, wi cheerless e'e,
Sits hurklin in the boggie,
Till she asserts her dignity,
By virtue o the coggie !
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs !
The puir man's patron coggie,
It warsels care, it fechts life's fauchts,
An lifts him frae the boggie.
Gie feckless Spain her weak snail broo,
Gie France her weel spic't froggie,
Gie brither John his luncheon too,
But gie to us our coggie !
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs!
Our soul-warm kindred coggie ;
Hearts doubly knit in social tie,
When just a wee thocht groggie.
In days o yore our sturdy sires,
Upon their hills sae scroggie,
Glow'd with true Freedom's warmest fires,
An faucht to save their coggie !
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs !
Our brave forefathers' coggie ;
It rous'd them up to douchty deeds,
O'er whilk we'll lang be voggie.
Then, here's—May Scotland ne'er fa doun,
A cringin, coward doggie,
But bauldly stan an bang the loon,
Wha'd reave her o her coggie!
Then, oh ! revere the coggie, sirs !
Our guid auld rnither's coggie !
Nor let her luggie e'er be drain'd
By ony foreign roggie.
This song first appeared in Maver's Glasgow periodical, the Selector, Vol. IV., page 264, in 1806. See Note to No. 5. It also appeared the same year in Leslie's Glasgow Nightingale, page 210. See first Note to No. 13.—Ed.
[Semple 147]