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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 State;
He 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 weel,
McClish's ae daughter o' Claversha' Lee,
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.

His wig wis weel pouther'd as gude as when new,
His 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' that?

He mounted his mare, an' he rade cannily,
An' he rapp'd at the yett o' Claversha' Lee;
"Gae 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 time?"
She put off her apron, an' on her silk goon,
Her mutch wi' red ribbons, an' gaed awa' doon.

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 "Na",
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' Cockpen.

EXTRA VERSES

An' noo that the laird his exit had made,
Mistress Jean she reflected oan what she had said;
"Oh, 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.