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Sung by Ian Wallace
The laird o' Cockpen,
he's prood an' he's great,
His mind is ta'en up wi' things o' the
wanted a wife, his braw hoose tae keep,
But favour wi' wooin'
wis fashious tae seek.
Doon by the dyke-side
a lady did dwell,
At his table heid he thocht she'd look
ae daughter o' Claversha' Lee,
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.
His wig wis weel pouther'd as gude as when
waistcoat wis white, his coat it wis blue;
He put oan a ring, an'
a sword, an' cock'd hat,
An' wha could refuse the laird wi' a'
He mounted his mare, an' he rade cannily,
An' he rapp'd
at the yett o' Claversha' Lee;
tell Mistress Jean tae come speedily ben,
She's wanted tae speak
tae the Laird o' Cockpen".
Mistress Jean she wis
makin' the elderflooer wine;
"Now what brings the laird at sic a like
off her apron, an' on her silk goon,
Her mutch wi' red ribbons, an' gaed awa'
An' when she cam ben, he bobbit fu' low,
An' what wis
his errand he soon let her know;
Amazed wis the laird when the lady said
An' wi' a
laigh curtsie she turned awa'.
Dumfounder'd wis he,
bit nae sigh did he gie,
He mounted his mare - an' he rade cannily;
An' aften he
thocht, as he gaed through the glen,
Och! She's daft tae refuse the Laird o'
An' noo that the laird
his exit had made,
Mistress Jean she reflected oan what she
for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll get ten,
I wis daft to refuse
the Laird o' Cockpen".
Next time that the
laird an' the lady was seen,
They were gaun airm-in-airm tae 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.