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 THE COGIE:

OR, A WELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR. TUNE—“ Cauld Kail in Aberdeen” Again we hail the blythe New Year, Wi' neibours kind an’ vogie; An’d ain our cup o’ social cheer. Nor care for quaich or cogie.

Chor.—Oh, wae bet de the three-gird cog, The sly, bt witchin’ cogie; Nor simmer frost nor autumn fog Brings hauf sic scaith on Bogie.

Tho’ snaw lay king on Tap o’ Noth, Yet hairst was air in Bogie; But bairns maun dwine on barefit broth, Gin fathers fame their cogie.

Chor.-Oh, wae betide the three-gird cog, &c.

An’ wae's me for the drunkard’s wife, Far better fares his dogie; He vow’d to cheer, but wracks her life, As up he coups the cogie.

Chor.—Oh, wae betide the three-gird cog, &c.

Our sons, when branded Bacchus’ slaves, Maun wallow fousome bogies; Correction’s rod may sober knaves, But fat can spain fae cogies?

Chor,—Oh, wae bettle the three-gird cog, &c.