The Braes o Yarrow
No: 214; variant: 214D
- THERE were three lords drinking of wine
On the bonny braes of Yarrow;
There fell a combat them between,
Wha was the rose of Yarrow.
- Up then spak a noble lord,
And I wot it was bot sorrow:
‘I have as fair a flower,’ he said,
‘As ever sprang on Yarrow.’
- Then he went hame to his ain house,
For to sleep or the morrow,
But the first sound the trumpet gae
Was, Mount and haste to Yarrow.
- ‘Oh stay at hame,’ his lady said,
‘Oh stay untill the morrow,
And I will mount upon a steed,
And ride with you to Yarrow.’
- ‘Oh hawd your tongue, my dear,’ said he,
‘And talk not of the morrow;
This day I have to fight again,
In the dowy deans of Yarrow.’
- As he went up yon high, high hill,
Down the dowy deans of Yarrow,
There he spy’d ten weel armd men,
There was nane o them his marrow.
- Five he wounded and five he slew,
In the dowy deans of Yarrow,
But an English-man out of a bush
Shot at him a lang sharp arrow.
- ‘Ye may gang hame, my brethren three,
Ye may gang hame with sorrow,
And say this to my fair lady,
I am sleeping sound on Yarrow.’
- ‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream—-
You read a dream to gude, O!
That I was puing the heather green
On the bonny braes of Yarrow.’
- ‘Sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,
But alas! it’s unto sorrow;
Your good lord is sleeping sound,
He is lying dead on Yarrow.’
- She as pu’d the ribbons of her head,
And I wot it was wi sorrow,
And she’s gane up yon high, high hill,
Down the dowy deans of Yarrow.
- Her hair it was five quarters lang,
The colour of it was yellow;
She as ty’d it round his middle jimp,
And she as carried him frae Yarrow.
- ‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says,
‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow?
I’ll wed you on as fair a flower
As ever sprang on Yarrow.’
- ‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear,
I’m fow of grief and sorrow;
For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprang
Than I’ve lost this day on Yarrow.’
- This lady being big wi bairn,
And fow of grief and sorrow,
She as died within her father’s arms,
And she died lang or the morrow.