SONGS
THE LAIRD OF COCKPEN.
The Laird o’ Cockpen he’s proud an’ 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 fashions to seek.
Doun by the dyke-side a lady did dwell;
At his table-head he thocht she’d look well;
M‘Clish’s ae dochter o’ Claverseha’ Lee;
A pennyless lass wi’ a lang pedigree.
His wig was weel-powder’d, as guid as when 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 cannily,
An’ rapped at the yett o’ Claverseha’ Lee,
Gao tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She’s wanted to speak to the Laird o’ Cockpen.
Mistress Jean was making the elder-flower wine,—
-And what brings the Laird at sic a like time,
