Goldfinch (1)/Jock o' Hazeldean

Jock o‘ Hazeldean.

"Why weep ye by the tide lady?
⁠Why weep ye by the tide?
Ill wed ye to my youngest son,
⁠And ye shall be his bride;
And ye shall be his bride, lady,
⁠Sae comely to be seen;"—
But aye she loot the tears down fa’
⁠For Jock o’ Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilful grief be done,
⁠And dry that cheek sae 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 o' Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold ye shall not lack,
⁠Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hounds, nor managed hawk,
⁠Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o‘ them a‘,
⁠Shall ride our bridal queen:—
But aye she loot the tears down fa’,
⁠For Jock o’ Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck’d at morning tide,
⁠The tapers glimmer fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
⁠And dame and knight were there.
They sought her both by bower and ha’,
⁠The lady was not seen:
She‘s o‘er the Border and awa
⁠Wi‘ Jock o‘ Hazledean.