| 1 |
O ay he sat, and ay he drank,
An ay he counted the laying,
An ay he drank to the lass'es health
Was to meet him in the dawning. |
| 2 |
Up he gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat he geas wi sorrow,
An in a den he spy'd nine well armd men,
On the dowie banks of Yarrow. |
| 3 |
'Oh woe be to young women's wit!
For the've bred to me meikle sorrow;
She promisd for to meet me here,
An she's sent nine men to slay me. |
| 4 |
'But there is two swords in my scabba[rd],
They cost me gold and money;
Tak ye the best, and I'll tak the wa[rst],
An come man for man, I'll not fly yo[u].' |
| 5 |
Ay he stood, an ay he fought,
Till it was near the dawning,
Then up an rose her brother James,
An has slain him in the dawning. |
| 6 |
'O the last night I dreamd a dream,
God keep us a' frae sorrow!
I dreamd I was powing the heather green
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.' |
| 7 |
Up she gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat she gaes with sorrow,
An in a den she spy'd nine slain men,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow. |
| 8 |
'O the last time I saw my love
He was a' clad oer in tartan;
But now he's a' clad oer in red,
An he's a' blood to the gartin.' |
| 9 |
She kist his mouth, an she's combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She drank the blood that from him ran,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow. |
| 10 |
'O hold your tongue now. daughter,' he says,
'An breed to me no more sorrow;
For I'll wed you on a better match
Than you have lost on Yarrow.' |
| 11 |
'Hold your tongue now, father,' she says,
'An breed to me no more sorrow;
For a better rose will never spring
Than I have lost on Yarrow.' |
