Why weap ye by the tide, ladye?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son
And ye shall be his bride
And ye shall be his bride, ladye
Sae comely to be seen
But aye she loot the tears down la'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

Oh let your willfu' grief be done
And dry thy cheeks so pale,
Young Frank is Chief of Errington
And Laird o' Langleydale.
His foot is first in peace or war,
His sword in battle keen.
But aye she's let the tears doon fa
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

A chain of gold ye shall not lack
Nor braid to bind you hair
Nor mettled hound, nor managed halk
Nor palfrey fresh and fair
And you, the fairest of them a'
Shall ride our forest queen
But aye she loot the tears down la'
For Jock o' 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 ladye was not seen
She's o'er the border and awa'
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!