THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN 265 



died away among the pine woods and furze brakes 

 of the Eildon Hills. Then it was that we had the 

 good fortune to meet my most humorous and 

 excellent friend Sir Adam Ferguson, who made 

 rare amends for the loss of our piper by singing the 

 following strains in his richest style, which, as they 

 are not very well known in the South, I venture to 

 subscribe. 



" The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud and he's great ; 

 His mind's ta'en up wi 1 the things 0"" the state ; 

 He wanted a wife his braw house to keep, 

 But favour wi 1 wooing was fashous to seek. 



" Down by the dyke-side a leddie did dwell, 

 At the head o' his table he thocht she'd look well, 

 Macleish's ae dochter o' Claver's Ha' Lee, 

 A penniless lass, wi 1 a lang pedigree. 



" His wig was well pouthered, and maist gude as new ; 

 His waistcoat was red, his coat it was blue ; 

 A ring on his finger, his sword and cockt hat, 

 And wha could refuse the laird wi' aw that ? 



" He mounted his meer, he rode cannilie, 

 And rapt at the yett o' Clavers Ha' Lee ; 

 ' Gae tell Mrs. Jean to come speedilie ben, 

 She's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen.' 



" Mrs. Jean she was makin' the elder flower wine ; 

 ' And what brings the laird at sic a like time ? ' 

 She threw aff her apron, put on her silk gown, 

 Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and cam' awa' down. 



" And whan she cam' in he bowed fu' low, 

 And soon his errand he let her to know ; 

 Amazed was the laird whan the leddie said naw, 

 But wi' a laigh courtsy she turned awa'. 



