THE laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an'
His mind is ta'en up wi' things o' the State;
He wanted a wife, his braw house to keep,
But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.
Down by the dyke-side a lady did
At his table head he thought she'd look well,
M`Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee,
A pennyless lass wi' a lang pedigree.
His wig was weel pouther'd, and as
gude as new;
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword and cock'd hat,
And wha could refuse the laird wi' a' that?
He took the grey mare, and rade
An' rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee;
"Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She's wanted to speak to the laird o' Cockpen."
Mistress Jean was makin' the
"An' what brings the laird at sic a like time?"
She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown,
Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down.
An' when she cam' ben he bowed fu'
An' what was his errand he soon let her know ;
Amazed was the laird when the lady said "Na"
An' wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'.
Dumfounder'd he was, nae sigh did he
He mounted his mare-he rade cannily;
And aften he thought, as he gaed thro' the glen,
"She's daft to refuse the laird o' Cockpen."
And now that the laird his exit had
Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said;
"Oh, for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll get ten,
I was daft to refuse the laird o' Cockpen."
Next time that the laird and the lady
They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green;
Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen,
But as yet there's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen.