Jock O'Hazeldean

Why weep ye by the tide, lady, why weep ye by the tide
I'll wed ye tae my youngest son and you will be his bride
You will be his bride, lady, sae comely tae be seen
And aye she let the tears doon fall for Jock O'Hazeldean

Now let this willful grief be done and dry your cheeks sae pale
Young Frank is chief of Errington and lord o' Langleydale
His step is first in peaceful hall his sword in battle keen
But aye, she let the tears doon fall for Jock O'Hazeldean

A chain of gold you shall not not lack nor braid tae bind your hair
Nor mettled hound nor managed hawk nor palfrey fresh and fair
And you the foremost o' them all will ride our forest queen
But still she let the tears doon fall for Jock O'Hazeldean

The Kirk was decked at morning tide, the tapers glimmer there
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride and dame and knight are there
They sought her baith by bower and hall, the lady was nae seen
She o'er the border and awa' wi' Jock O'Hazeldean