The Laird o' Cockpen Songtext / Lyric

The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud and he's great,
His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the state;
He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,
But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek. Now doon by the dykeside a lady did dwell,
At his table head he thocht she'd look well;
MacCleish's ae dochter o' Clavers ha' Lee,
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree. He mounted his mare an' he rade cannilie,
An' rapp'd at the yett o' Claver ha' Lee,
"Gae tell mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She's wanted to speak wi' the Laird o' Cockpen.

Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder flow'r wine,
"what the deil brings the Laird here at sic a like time?"
She put off her apron and on her silk gown,
her mutch wi'red ribbons, an gae'd awa'doon.

An' when she came ben she bobbit fu'low,
And what was his errand he soon let her know;
Amaz'd was the Laird, when the lady said, "Na!"
An' wi' a laigh curtise she tuned awa'

Dumbfounded was he, but nae sigh did he gie;
He mounted his mare an' he rode cannilie;
And aften he thocht, as he gae'd thro' the glen,
"She was daft to refuse the Laird o'Cockpen."