The Braes o Yarrow
No: 214; variant: 214O
- 'I DREAMD a dreary dream last night,
God keep us a' frae sorrow!
I dreamd I pu'd the birk sae green
Wi my true love on Yarrow.'
- 'I'll read your dream, my sister dear,
I'll tell you a' your sorrow;
You pu'd the birk wi your true luve,
He's killd, he's killd on Yarrow!'
- 'O gentle wind, that blaweth south
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth!
- 'But oer yon glen run armed men,
Have wrought me dule and sorrow;
They've slain, they've slain the comliest swain,
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.'