"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie,
  Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye tae my youngest son,
  And ye'll shall be his bride;
And ye'll shall be his bride, ladie,
  Sae comely tae be seen;"
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
  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 in battle keen;"
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
  For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold ye 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 o' Hazeldean!