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

Noo let this waefu' grief be done
And dry yer cheeks sae pale;
Young Frank is chief o' Errington
And Lord o' Langleydale.
His step is first in peacefu' ha'
His sword in battle keen,
But aye she loot the tears doonfa'
For Jock o Hazeldean

A crown o' gold ye shallna lack,
Nor braid tae bind yer hair;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair.
And ye, the foremost o' them a'
Should ride the forest, queen,
But aye she loot the tears doonfa'
For Jock o Hazeldean

The kirk was decked at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmered fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride
And dame and knight were there.
They sought her baith by field and ha',
The lady wisna seen,
She's ow'r the Borders and awa'
Wi Jock o Hazeldean

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