Jock of Hazeldean

 Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? 
Why weep ye by the tide? 
I'll wed ye to my youngest son, 
And ye sall be his bride: 
And ye sall be his bride, ladie, 
Sae comely to be seen"-- 
But aye she loot the tears sown fa' 
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilfu' grief be done, 
And dry that cheek so pale; 
Young Frank is chief of Errington, 
And lord of Langley-dale; 
His step is first in peaceful ha' 
His sword in battle keen"-- 
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold you sall not lack, 
Nor braid to bind your hair; 
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, 
Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 
And you, the foremost o' them a', 
Shall ride our forest queen"-- 
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 
For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 
The tapers glimmer'd fair; 
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, 
And dame and knight are there. 
They sought her baith by bower and ha'; 
The ladie was not seen! 
She's o'er the Border and awa' 
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

Form: Ballad

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