'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 to hae be' seen' –
But aye she let the tears doon fall
For Jock O'Hazeldean.

'Now let this weary grief be done,
And dry your cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is feared thoughout the land,
His sword in battle keen' –
But aye she let the tears doon fall
For Jock O'Hazeldean.

'A chain of gold ye shall not lack,
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Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the fairest of them all,
Shall ride the forest queen' –
But oh she let the tears doon fall
For Jock O'Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
The dame and knight were there.
They sought her far throughout the land;
The lady was not seen!
She's o'er the Border, and awa'
Wi' Jock O'Hazeldean.