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Poem	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.
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