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Jock o' Hazeldean

'Why weep ye by the tide, ladie,
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, ladie
Sae comely to be seen' -
But aye she loot the tears down la'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

'A chain of gold ye shall not lack,
Nor braid to bind you hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
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.

'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 is battle keen' -
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
Foe 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 o' Hazeldean!

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