I like Tim van Eyken's alternate ending to Seventeen Come Sunday:

So now she's with her soldier bright
Where the wars they are alarming;
And her delight is to dance all night
And a pint of rum in the morning.

And it's a bit soppy, but I can't help but love the last verse of Jock o' Hazeldean:

The kirk was deckt at mornintide, the tapers glimmert fair;
The priest an bridegroum wait the bride an dame an knight were there.
They searcht for her in bower an haa the lady wisnae seen—
She's owre the border an awa wi Jock o Hazeldean.