214THE BRAES O YARROW

A.‘The Braes of Yarrow,’ communicated to Percy by Dr Robertson, Principal of Edinburgh.

B.‘The Braes o Yarrow,’ Murison MS., p. 105.

C.‘The Dowie Downs o Yarrow,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 334; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 252.

D.‘The Bonny Braes of Yarrow,’ communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, of Norham, 1768.

E. a.‘The Dowy Houms o Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.b.‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.

F.‘The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.

G.‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.

H.‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ Campbell MSS, II, 55.

I.‘Braes of Yarrow,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 161; Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 203; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 68, Percy Society, vol. xvii.

J.‘The Dowie Glens of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.

K.‘The Dowie Den in Yarrow,’ Campbell MSS, I, 8.

L.‘The Dowie Dens,’ Blackwood’s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890.

M.‘Dowie Banks of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.

N.‘The Yetts of Gowrie,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.

O.Herd’s MSS, I, 35, II, 181; Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 145; four stanzas.

P.Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; two stanzas.

First published in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803 (E b). Scott remarks that he “found it easy to collect a variety of copies, but very difficult indeed to select from them such a collated edition as might in any degree suit the taste of ‘these more light and giddy-paced times.’” The copy principally used wasE a. St. 12 of Scott, which suited the taste of the last century, but does not suit with a popular ballad, is fromO, and also st. 13, and there are traces ofF,G,M, but 5–7 have lines which do not occur in any version that I have seen.

Ahad been somewhat edited before it was communicated to Percy; the places were, however, indicated by commas. Several copiesbesidesO, already referred to, have slight passages that never came from the unsophisticated people; asJ2, in which a page “runs with sorrow,” for rhyme and without reason,L23, andL123,4, which is manifestly taken from Logan’s Braes of Yarrow.[96]Nhas been interpolated with artificial nonsense,[97]and is an almost worthless copy; the last stanza may defy competition for silliness.

M1, 3, andN4, 6, 7, belong to ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse.’ So also does one half of a fragment sent by Burns in a letter to William Tytler, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 194–8, which, however, has two stanzas of this ballad (P) and two of ‘Rare Willie’s drowned in Yarrow,’ No 215.

The fragment in Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, I, lxvii, isO.

Herd’s MSS, I, 36, II, 182, have the following couplets, evidently from a piece treating the story of this ballad:

O when I look east my heart is sair,But when I look west it’s mair and mair,For there I see the braes of Yarrow,And there I lost for ay my marrow.

O when I look east my heart is sair,

But when I look west it’s mair and mair,

For there I see the braes of Yarrow,

And there I lost for ay my marrow.

The groupsA-IandJ-Pare distinguished by the circumstance, of no importance to the story, that the hero and heroine in the former are man and wife, in the other unmarried lovers. In all the versions (leaving out of account the fragmentsO,P) the family of the woman are at variance with the man. Her brothers think him an unfit match for their sister,A8,B2.[98]InC2 the brothers have taken offence because their sister was not regarded as his equal by her husband, which is perhaps too much of a refinement for ballads, and may be a perversion. She was worth stealing inCas inB. The dispute in two or three copies appears to take the form who is the flower, or rose, of Yarrow, that is the best man,C8, 9, 17,B1, 12,D1, 14; but this matter is muddled, cf.C2, 3,D2. We hear nothing about the unequal match inD-I, but inJ-La young lady displeases her father by refusing nine gentlemen in favor of a servant-lad.

Men who are drinking together fall out and set a combat for the next day,B-F,H,I. It is three lords that drink and quarrel inB-D(ten (?) inI). The lady fears that her three brothers will slay her husband,B5,C5. The lord inD2 seems not to be one of the three inD1, and we are probably to understand that three brothers get into a brawl with a man who has surreptitiously married their sister. Only one brother is spoken of inA(6), from whom treachery is looked for,E2.

InI-Lthe father makes the servant-lad fight with the nine high-born suitors.

The wife tries to keep her husband at home,A-E,I; but he is confident that all will go well, and that he shall come back to her early,A,B,C,I. She kisses (washes) and combs him, and helps to arm him,B,C,E,F,G,I; soJ,K.[99]He finds nine armed men awaiting him on the braes or houms of Yarrow,A,E-G,I-M, tenB,D.[100]They ask if he has come to hawk, hunt (drink), or fight; he replies that he has come to fight,C,E,I; cf.A5, 6. Five (four) he slays and four (five) he wounds,A,B,D,E,I,J,K; inFhe kills all the nine; inLhe gets no further than the seventh; inGhe kills all but one.

These nine, after the way of ballads, shouldbe the lady’s brothers, and such they are inA7, 8. Three of them, but only three, should be the lady’s brothers according toB1–5,C1–5. Three brethren are charged by the husband with a message to his lady inD8, and these might be his brothers-in-law. The message is sent inE9 by a good-brother, or wife’s brother, John, who clearly was not in the fight inE, though the husband says he is going to meet this brother John inA6. This brother-in-law ofEis probably intended by brother inI8.

After the hero has successively disposed of his nine or ten antagonists (he takes them ‘man for man’), he is stabbed from behind in a cowardly way,A,B,C,E,I,L,N, by somebody. The tradition is much blurred here; it is a squire out of the bush, a cowardly man, a fause lord. An Englishman shoots him with an arrow out of a bush inD. But other reports are distinct. The lady’s father runs him through (not from behind) inJ,K. Her brother springs from a bush behind and runs him through,L. Her brother John comes behind him and slays him,N. Up and rose her brother James and slew him,M. InE“that stubborn knight” comes behind him and runs his body through, and that (a) “stubborn lord” is the author of his death inG,F. TakingE2, 8, 9 together, the stubborn knight, at least inE, may be interpreted as good-brother John, whose treachery is feared inE2, who is prominent inA6, and who is expressly said to slay his sister’s true-love inN. On the whole, the preponderance of tradition is to the effect that the hero was treacherously slain by his wife’s (love’s) brother.

Word of her husband’s death is sent or carried to the wife by her brother, brother John,A,E,L,N; her or his three brothers,D8; her or his brother,I8; his man John,C12, by mistake; her father (?),J,K; her sister Anne,F,G,H. The wife has had a dream that she, her lord or true-love and she, had been pulling green heather (birk) in Yarrow,A,C-F,I-M,O.[101]The dream is explained to signify her lord’s death, and she is enjoined to fetch him home. InA, the dream occurs before the fight and is double, of pulling green heather and of her love coming headless home; inB, the lady dreams that her lord was sleeping sound in Yarrow, and in the highly vitiatedNthat ‘he had lost his life.’

The wife hurries to Yarrow;[102]up a high, high hill and down into the valley, where she sees nine (ten) dead men,E,F,G,M(nine well-armed men, wrongly,H).[103]She sees her true-love lying slain, finds him sleeping sound, in Yarrow,A,B,J,K. She kisses him and combs his hair,A,E,F,G,I,L,M; she drinks the blood that runs from him,E12,F11,G7,M9.[104]

Her hair is five quarters long; she twists it round his hand and draws him home,C; ties it round his middle and carries him home,D. She takes three lachters of her hair, ties them tight round his middle and carries him home,B.Hishair is five quarters long! she ties it to her horse’s mane and trails him home,K.[105]The carrying strikes one as unpractical, the trailing as barbarous. InL, after the lover is slain, the surviving lords and her brother trail him by the heels to Yarrow water and throw him into a whirlpool. The lady, searching for him, sees him ‘deeply drowned.’ His hair,which we must suppose to float, is five quarters long; she twines it round her hand and draws him out. Raising no petty questions, it appears enough to say that this is the only version of fourteen in which the drowning occurs, and that the drowning of the lover is the characteristic of No 215, the next following ballad, which has otherwise been partly confused with this.[106]

The lady’s father urges her to restrain her grief; he will wed her with as good a lord as she has lost, or a better; she rejects his suggestions. Her heart breaks,B,I; she dies in her father’s arms,D,F-H,J-L, being at the time big with child,B,D,F-H,J.

The lady tells her father to wed his sons,B12; his seven sons,J18. So ‘Clerk Saunders’ (of which this may be a reminiscence, for we do not hear of seven sons in this ballad), No 69,G28; cf.A26,E19.

She bids him take home his ousen and his kye,E15,F12,G8,H9. This I conceive to be an interpolation by a reciter who followed the tradition cited from Hogg further on.

The message to the mother to come take up her son inI8 may possibly be a reminiscence from ‘Johnie Cock,’ No 114. It occurs in no other copy, and comes in awkwardly.

‘The Braes of Yarrow’ (‘Busk ye, busk ye, my bony, bony bride’), written by William Hamilton of Bangour “in imitation of the ancient Scottish manner,’ was suggested by this ballad.[107]

‘The Dowy Dens,’ Evans’s Old Ballads, 1810, III, 342, has the same foundation. ‘The Haughs o Yarrow,’ a modern piece in Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 211, repeats with a slight change the third stanza ofO, and has further on half a stanza from ‘Willie’s rare,’ No 215.

James Hogg, in sendingEa to Sir Walter Scott, wrote as follows: “Tradition placeth the event on which this song is founded very early. That the song hath been written near the time of the transaction appears quite evident, although, like others, by frequent singing the language is become adapted to an age not so far distant. The bard does not at all relate particulars, but only mentions some striking features of a tragical event which everybody knew. This is observable in many of the productions of early times; at least the secondary bards seem to have regarded their songs as purely temporary.

“The hero of the ballad is said to have been of the name of Scott, and is called a knight of great bravery. He lived in Ettrick, some say at Oakwood, others Kirkhope; but was treacherously slain by his brother-in-law, as related in the ballad, who had him at ill will because his father had parted with the half of all his goods and gear to his sister on her marriage with such a respectable man. The name of the murderer is said to be Annand, a name I believe merely conjectural from the name of the place where they are said both to be buried, which at this day is called Annan’s Treat, a low muir lying to the west of Yarrow church, where two huge tall stones are erected, below which the least child that can walk the road will tell you the two lords are buried that were slain in a duel.”

Sir Walter Scott, in the revised edition of his Minstrelsy, expressed a conviction that this ballad referred to a duel fought between John Scott of Tushielaw and his brother-in-lawWalter Scott of Thirlestane, in which the latter was slain.[108]Contemporary entries in the records of the Presbytery of Selkirk show that John Scott, son to Walter of Tushielaw, killed Walter Scott, brother of Sir Robert of Thirlestane, in 1609. The slain Walter Scott was not, however, the brother-in-law of John of Tushielaw, for his wife was a daughter of Sir Patrick Porteous. A violent feud ensued, as might be expected, between the Scotts of Thirlestane and of Tushielaw. Seven years later, in 1616, a Walter Scott of Tushielaw made “an informal and inordinat marriage with Grizel Scott of Thirlestane without consent of her father.” The record of the elopement is three months after followed by an entry of a summons to Simeon Scott of Bonytoun (an adherent of Thirlestane) and three other Scotts “to compear in Melrose to hear themselves excommunicat for the horrible slaughter of Walter Scott” [of Tushielaw]. Disregarding the so-called duel, we have a Walter Scott of Tushielaw carrying off a wife from the Scotts of Thirlestane, with which family he was at feud; and a Walter Scott of Tushielaw horribly slaughtered by Scotts of Thirlestane. These facts correspond rather closely with the incidents of the ballad. We do not know, to be sure, that the two Walter Scotts of Tushielaw were the same person. There were Walter Scotts many; but tradition is capable of confounding the two or the three connected with this series of events. On the other hand, there is nothing in the ballad to connect it preferably with the Scotts; the facts are such as are likely to have occurred often in history, and a similar story is found in other ballads.

In the Scandinavian ballad ‘Herr Helmer,’ Helmer has married a lady whose family are at feud with him for the unatoned slaughter of her uncle; he meets her seven brothers, who will now hear of no satisfaction; there is a fight; Helmer kills six, but spares the seventh, who treacherously kills him: Afzelius, ed. Bergström, I, 264, Arwidsson, I, 155 (etc., see II, 170 of this collection, note ‡). Other forms make the last of the brothers willing to accept an arrangement: ‘Herr Helmer Blau,’ Danske Viser, IV, 251, No 209, ‘Herr Hjælm,’ Grundtvig, Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81. ‘Jomfruen i Skoven,’ Danske Viser, III, 99, No 123, has also several features of our ballad. The hero, on parting from a lady with whom he has passed the night in a wood, is warned by her to avoid her seven brothers. This he is too brave to do, and he meets them. They ask him where are his hawk and his hound. He tries, unsuccessfully, to induce them to give him their sister for wife; they fight; he kills all the seven brothers, and is slain himself, in some way not explained. (These ballads are translated in Prior, III, 371, 230.)

The next ballad has been partially confused with this.

E b, Scott’s ballad, is translated by Doenniges, p. 237; by Loève-Veimars, p. 347. Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 92, translates Allingham’s ballad.

Communicated to Percy by Dr William Robertson, Principal of Edinburgh.

1‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night,That fills my heart wi sorrow;I dreamed I was pouing the heather greenUpon the braes of Yarrow.2‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,As ye ha done before, O;’‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,And frae the braes of Yarrow.’3I dreamed a dreary dream this night,That fills my heart wi sorrow;I dreamed my luve came headless hame,O frae the braes of Yarrow!4‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,As ye ha done before, O;’‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,And frae the braes of Yarrow.’5‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says,‘As ye ha done before, O?Or are ye going to weild your brand,Upon the braes of Yarrow?’6‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says,‘As I have done before, O,But for to meet your brother Jhon,Upon the braes of Yarrow.’7As he gade down yon dowy den,Sorrow went him before, O;Nine well-wight men lay waiting him,Upon the braes of Yarrow.8‘I have your sister to my wife,‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow;But yet one foot will I never fleeNow frae the braes of Yarrow.’9‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound,That was an unmeet marrow!‘And he had weel nigh wan the dayUpon the braes of Yarrow.’10‘Bot’ a cowardly ‘loon’ came him behind,Our Lady lend him sorrow!And wi a rappier pierced his heart,And laid him low on Yarrow.11‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane,Wi meikle dule and sorrow:‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says,‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’12As she went down yon dowy den,Sorrow went her before, O;She saw her true-love lying slainUpon the braes of Yarrow.13‘She swoond thrice upon his breistThat was her dearest marrow;Said, Ever alace and wae the dayThou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’14She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair,As she had done before, O;She ‘wiped’ the blood that trickled dounUpon the braes of Yarrow.15Her hair it was three quarters lang,It hang baith side and yellow;She tied it round ‘her’ white hause-bane,‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’

1‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night,That fills my heart wi sorrow;I dreamed I was pouing the heather greenUpon the braes of Yarrow.

‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night,

That fills my heart wi sorrow;

I dreamed I was pouing the heather green

Upon the braes of Yarrow.

2‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,As ye ha done before, O;’‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,

As ye ha done before, O;’

‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,

And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

3I dreamed a dreary dream this night,That fills my heart wi sorrow;I dreamed my luve came headless hame,O frae the braes of Yarrow!

I dreamed a dreary dream this night,

That fills my heart wi sorrow;

I dreamed my luve came headless hame,

O frae the braes of Yarrow!

4‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,As ye ha done before, O;’‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,

As ye ha done before, O;’

‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,

And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

5‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says,‘As ye ha done before, O?Or are ye going to weild your brand,Upon the braes of Yarrow?’

‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says,

‘As ye ha done before, O?

Or are ye going to weild your brand,

Upon the braes of Yarrow?’

6‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says,‘As I have done before, O,But for to meet your brother Jhon,Upon the braes of Yarrow.’

‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says,

‘As I have done before, O,

But for to meet your brother Jhon,

Upon the braes of Yarrow.’

7As he gade down yon dowy den,Sorrow went him before, O;Nine well-wight men lay waiting him,Upon the braes of Yarrow.

As he gade down yon dowy den,

Sorrow went him before, O;

Nine well-wight men lay waiting him,

Upon the braes of Yarrow.

8‘I have your sister to my wife,‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow;But yet one foot will I never fleeNow frae the braes of Yarrow.’

‘I have your sister to my wife,

‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow;

But yet one foot will I never flee

Now frae the braes of Yarrow.’

9‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound,That was an unmeet marrow!‘And he had weel nigh wan the dayUpon the braes of Yarrow.’

‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound,

That was an unmeet marrow!

‘And he had weel nigh wan the day

Upon the braes of Yarrow.’

10‘Bot’ a cowardly ‘loon’ came him behind,Our Lady lend him sorrow!And wi a rappier pierced his heart,And laid him low on Yarrow.

‘Bot’ a cowardly ‘loon’ came him behind,

Our Lady lend him sorrow!

And wi a rappier pierced his heart,

And laid him low on Yarrow.

11‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane,Wi meikle dule and sorrow:‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says,‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’

‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane,

Wi meikle dule and sorrow:

‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says,

‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’

12As she went down yon dowy den,Sorrow went her before, O;She saw her true-love lying slainUpon the braes of Yarrow.

As she went down yon dowy den,

Sorrow went her before, O;

She saw her true-love lying slain

Upon the braes of Yarrow.

13‘She swoond thrice upon his breistThat was her dearest marrow;Said, Ever alace and wae the dayThou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’

‘She swoond thrice upon his breist

That was her dearest marrow;

Said, Ever alace and wae the day

Thou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’

14She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair,As she had done before, O;She ‘wiped’ the blood that trickled dounUpon the braes of Yarrow.

She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She ‘wiped’ the blood that trickled doun

Upon the braes of Yarrow.

15Her hair it was three quarters lang,It hang baith side and yellow;She tied it round ‘her’ white hause-bane,‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’

Her hair it was three quarters lang,

It hang baith side and yellow;

She tied it round ‘her’ white hause-bane,

‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’

Murison MS., p. 105; Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.

1Three lords sat drinking at the wineI the bonny braes o Yarrow,An there cam a dispute them between,Who was the Flower o Yarrow.2‘I’m wedded to your sister dear,Ye coont nae me your marrow;I stole her fae her father’s back,An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’3‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans,I the bonnie brace o Yarrow?Or will ye try the weel airmt sword,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’4‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow,But I will try the weel airmt sword,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’5‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord,Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow;My brethren three they will slay thee,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’6‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun,An early sings the sparrow;Before the clock it will strike nineAn I’ll be home tomorrow.’7She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair,As she had done before, O;She’s dressed him in his noble bow,An he’s awa to Yarrow.8As he gaed up yon high, high hill,An doon the dens o Yarrow,An there he spied ten weel airmt menI the bonnie braes o Yarrow.9It’s five he wounded, an five he slew,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow;There cam a squire out o the bush,An pierced his body thorough.10‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen,God keep us a’ fae sorrow!That my good lord was sleepin sounI the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’11‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,An tak it not in sorrow;I’ll wed you wi as good a lordAs you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’12‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An wed your sons wi sorrow;For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor JuneNor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’13Fast did she gang, fast did she rin,Until she cam to Yarrow,An there she fan her own good lord,He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.14She’s taen three lachters o her hair,That hung doon her side sae bonny,An she’s tied them roon his middle tight,An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow.15This lady being big wi child,She was fu o grief an sorrow;Her heart did break, and then she died,She did not live till morrow.

1Three lords sat drinking at the wineI the bonny braes o Yarrow,An there cam a dispute them between,Who was the Flower o Yarrow.

Three lords sat drinking at the wine

I the bonny braes o Yarrow,

An there cam a dispute them between,

Who was the Flower o Yarrow.

2‘I’m wedded to your sister dear,Ye coont nae me your marrow;I stole her fae her father’s back,An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’

‘I’m wedded to your sister dear,

Ye coont nae me your marrow;

I stole her fae her father’s back,

An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’

3‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans,I the bonnie brace o Yarrow?Or will ye try the weel airmt sword,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’

‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans,

I the bonnie brace o Yarrow?

Or will ye try the weel airmt sword,

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’

4‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow,But I will try the weel airmt sword,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans,

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow,

But I will try the weel airmt sword,

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

5‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord,Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow;My brethren three they will slay thee,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord,

Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow;

My brethren three they will slay thee,

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

6‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun,An early sings the sparrow;Before the clock it will strike nineAn I’ll be home tomorrow.’

‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun,

An early sings the sparrow;

Before the clock it will strike nine

An I’ll be home tomorrow.’

7She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair,As she had done before, O;She’s dressed him in his noble bow,An he’s awa to Yarrow.

She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She’s dressed him in his noble bow,

An he’s awa to Yarrow.

8As he gaed up yon high, high hill,An doon the dens o Yarrow,An there he spied ten weel airmt menI the bonnie braes o Yarrow.

As he gaed up yon high, high hill,

An doon the dens o Yarrow,

An there he spied ten weel airmt men

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.

9It’s five he wounded, an five he slew,I the bonnie braes o Yarrow;There cam a squire out o the bush,An pierced his body thorough.

It’s five he wounded, an five he slew,

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow;

There cam a squire out o the bush,

An pierced his body thorough.

10‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen,God keep us a’ fae sorrow!That my good lord was sleepin sounI the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen,

God keep us a’ fae sorrow!

That my good lord was sleepin soun

I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

11‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,An tak it not in sorrow;I’ll wed you wi as good a lordAs you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,

An tak it not in sorrow;

I’ll wed you wi as good a lord

As you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

12‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An wed your sons wi sorrow;For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor JuneNor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,

An wed your sons wi sorrow;

For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor June

Nor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

13Fast did she gang, fast did she rin,Until she cam to Yarrow,An there she fan her own good lord,He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.

Fast did she gang, fast did she rin,

Until she cam to Yarrow,

An there she fan her own good lord,

He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.

14She’s taen three lachters o her hair,That hung doon her side sae bonny,An she’s tied them roon his middle tight,An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow.

She’s taen three lachters o her hair,

That hung doon her side sae bonny,

An she’s tied them roon his middle tight,

An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow.

15This lady being big wi child,She was fu o grief an sorrow;Her heart did break, and then she died,She did not live till morrow.

This lady being big wi child,

She was fu o grief an sorrow;

Her heart did break, and then she died,

She did not live till morrow.

Motherwell’s MS., pp. 334, 331, from the recitation of Agnes Lile, Kilbarchan, July 19, 1825; learned from her father, who died fourteen years earlier, at the age of eighty.

1There were three lords birling at the wineOn the dowie downs o Yarrow;They made a compact them betweenThey would go fight tomorrow.2‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride,And thou neer thocht her thy marrow;Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back,When she was the rose o Yarrow.’3‘Yes, I took your sister to be my bride,And I made her my marrow;I stealed her frae her daddie’s back,And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’4He is hame to his lady gane,As he had dune before! O;Says, Madam, I must go and fightOn the dowie downs o Yarrow.5‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said,‘For that will cause much sorrow;For my brethren three they will slay thee,On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’6‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair,For what needs a’ this sorrow?For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine,From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’7She wush his face, she kamed his hair,As she had dune before, O;She dressed him up in his armour clear,Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.8‘Come you here to hawk or hound,Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O?Or come you here to eat in your words,That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’9‘I came not here to hawk or hound,Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O;Nor I came not here to eat in my words,For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’10Then they a’ begoud to fight,I wad they focht richt sore, O,Till a cowardly man came behind his back,And pierced his body thorough.11‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John,As ye have done before, O,And tell it to my gay ladyThat I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’12His man John he has gane hame,As he had dune before, O,And told it to his gay lady,That he soundly slept on Yarrow.13‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen,God keep us a’ frae sorrow!That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather greenFrom the dowie downs o Yarrow.’14Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,As she had dune before, O,And aye between she fell in a soune,Lang or she cam to Yarrow.15Her hair it was five quarters lang,’Twas like the gold for yellow;She twisted it round his milk-white hand,And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow.16Out and spak her father dear,Says, What needs a’ this sorrow?For I’ll get you a far better lordThan ever died on Yarrow.17‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said,‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow;For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in MayAs that rose I lost on Yarrow.’

1There were three lords birling at the wineOn the dowie downs o Yarrow;They made a compact them betweenThey would go fight tomorrow.

There were three lords birling at the wine

On the dowie downs o Yarrow;

They made a compact them between

They would go fight tomorrow.

2‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride,And thou neer thocht her thy marrow;Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back,When she was the rose o Yarrow.’

‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride,

And thou neer thocht her thy marrow;

Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back,

When she was the rose o Yarrow.’

3‘Yes, I took your sister to be my bride,And I made her my marrow;I stealed her frae her daddie’s back,And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’

‘Yes, I took your sister to be my bride,

And I made her my marrow;

I stealed her frae her daddie’s back,

And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’

4He is hame to his lady gane,As he had dune before! O;Says, Madam, I must go and fightOn the dowie downs o Yarrow.

He is hame to his lady gane,

As he had dune before! O;

Says, Madam, I must go and fight

On the dowie downs o Yarrow.

5‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said,‘For that will cause much sorrow;For my brethren three they will slay thee,On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said,

‘For that will cause much sorrow;

For my brethren three they will slay thee,

On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

6‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair,For what needs a’ this sorrow?For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine,From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair,

For what needs a’ this sorrow?

For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine,

From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

7She wush his face, she kamed his hair,As she had dune before, O;She dressed him up in his armour clear,Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.

She wush his face, she kamed his hair,

As she had dune before, O;

She dressed him up in his armour clear,

Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.

8‘Come you here to hawk or hound,Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O?Or come you here to eat in your words,That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’

‘Come you here to hawk or hound,

Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O?

Or come you here to eat in your words,

That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’

9‘I came not here to hawk or hound,Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O;Nor I came not here to eat in my words,For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’

‘I came not here to hawk or hound,

Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O;

Nor I came not here to eat in my words,

For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’

10Then they a’ begoud to fight,I wad they focht richt sore, O,Till a cowardly man came behind his back,And pierced his body thorough.

Then they a’ begoud to fight,

I wad they focht richt sore, O,

Till a cowardly man came behind his back,

And pierced his body thorough.

11‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John,As ye have done before, O,And tell it to my gay ladyThat I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’

‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John,

As ye have done before, O,

And tell it to my gay lady

That I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’

12His man John he has gane hame,As he had dune before, O,And told it to his gay lady,That he soundly slept on Yarrow.

His man John he has gane hame,

As he had dune before, O,

And told it to his gay lady,

That he soundly slept on Yarrow.

13‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen,God keep us a’ frae sorrow!That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather greenFrom the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen,

God keep us a’ frae sorrow!

That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather green

From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

14Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,As she had dune before, O,And aye between she fell in a soune,Lang or she cam to Yarrow.

Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,

As she had dune before, O,

And aye between she fell in a soune,

Lang or she cam to Yarrow.

15Her hair it was five quarters lang,’Twas like the gold for yellow;She twisted it round his milk-white hand,And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow.

Her hair it was five quarters lang,

’Twas like the gold for yellow;

She twisted it round his milk-white hand,

And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow.

16Out and spak her father dear,Says, What needs a’ this sorrow?For I’ll get you a far better lordThan ever died on Yarrow.

Out and spak her father dear,

Says, What needs a’ this sorrow?

For I’ll get you a far better lord

Than ever died on Yarrow.

17‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said,‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow;For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in MayAs that rose I lost on Yarrow.’

‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said,

‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow;

For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in May

As that rose I lost on Yarrow.’

Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, Norham, April 16, 1768.

1There were three lords drinking of wineOn the bonny braes of Yarrow;There fell a combat them between,Whawas the rose of Yarrow.2Up 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.’3Then he went hame to his ain house,For to sleep or the morrow,But the first sound the trumpet gaeWas, Mount and haste to Yarrow.4‘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.’5‘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.’6As 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.7Five he wounded and five he slew,In the dowy deans of Yarrow,But an English-man out of a bushShot at him a lang sharp arrow.8‘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.’9‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream—You read a dream to gude, O!That I was puing the heather greenOn the bonny braes of Yarrow.’10‘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.’11She 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.12Her 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.13‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says,‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow?I’ll wed you on as fair a flowerAs ever sprang on Yarrow.’14‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear,I’m fow of grief and sorrow;For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprangThan I’ve lost this day on Yarrow.’15This 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.

1There were three lords drinking of wineOn the bonny braes of Yarrow;There fell a combat them between,Whawas the rose of Yarrow.

There were three lords drinking of wine

On the bonny braes of Yarrow;

There fell a combat them between,

Whawas the rose of Yarrow.

2Up 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.’

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.’

3Then he went hame to his ain house,For to sleep or the morrow,But the first sound the trumpet gaeWas, Mount and haste to 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.

4‘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 stay at hame,’ his lady said,

‘Oh stay untill the morrow,

And I will mount upon a steed,

And ride with you to Yarrow.’

5‘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.’

‘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.’

6As 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.

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.

7Five he wounded and five he slew,In the dowy deans of Yarrow,But an English-man out of a bushShot at him a lang sharp arrow.

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.

8‘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.’

‘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.’

9‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream—You read a dream to gude, O!That I was puing the heather greenOn the bonny braes of 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.’

10‘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.’

‘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.’

11She 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.

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.

12Her 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.

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.

13‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says,‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow?I’ll wed you on as fair a flowerAs ever sprang on 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.’

14‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear,I’m fow of grief and sorrow;For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprangThan I’ve lost this day 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.’

15This 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.

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.

a.In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, about 1801; now in a volume with the title “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 136, Abbotsford.b.Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.

1Late at een, drinkin the wine,Or early in a mornin,The set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawnin.2‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betray,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’3‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!For I maun gae, tho I neer returnFrae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’4She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,As she had done before, O;She belted on his noble brand,An he’s awa to Yarrow.5O he’s gane up yon high, high hill—I wat he gaed wi sorrow—An in a den spied nine armd men,I the dowy houms o Yarrow.6‘O ir ye come to drink the wine,As ye hae doon before, O?Or ir ye come to wield the brand,On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’7‘I im no come to drink the wine,As I hae don before, O,But I im come to wield the brand,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’8Four he hurt, an five he slew,On the dowy houms o Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,An ran his body thorrow.9‘Gae hame. gae hame, good-brother John,An tell your sister SarahTo come an lift her noble lord,Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’10‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream;I kend there wad be sorrow;I dreamd I pu’d the heather green,On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’11She gaed up yon high, high hill—I wat she gaed wi sorrow—An in a den spy’d nine dead men,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.12She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,As oft she did before, O;She drank the red blood frae him ran,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.13‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,For what needs a’ this sorrow?I’ll wed you on a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’14‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An dinna grieve your Sarah;A better lord was never bornThan him I lost on Yarrow.15‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,For they hae bred our sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gane madWhan they cam first to Yarrow.’

1Late at een, drinkin the wine,Or early in a mornin,The set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawnin.

Late at een, drinkin the wine,

Or early in a mornin,

The set a combat them between,

To fight it in the dawnin.

2‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betray,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!

O stay at hame, my marrow!

My cruel brother will you betray,

On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

3‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!For I maun gae, tho I neer returnFrae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!

O fare ye weel, my Sarah!

For I maun gae, tho I neer return

Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

4She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,As she had done before, O;She belted on his noble brand,An he’s awa to Yarrow.

She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She belted on his noble brand,

An he’s awa to Yarrow.

5O he’s gane up yon high, high hill—I wat he gaed wi sorrow—An in a den spied nine armd men,I the dowy houms o Yarrow.

O he’s gane up yon high, high hill—

I wat he gaed wi sorrow—

An in a den spied nine armd men,

I the dowy houms o Yarrow.

6‘O ir ye come to drink the wine,As ye hae doon before, O?Or ir ye come to wield the brand,On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’

‘O ir ye come to drink the wine,

As ye hae doon before, O?

Or ir ye come to wield the brand,

On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’

7‘I im no come to drink the wine,As I hae don before, O,But I im come to wield the brand,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

‘I im no come to drink the wine,

As I hae don before, O,

But I im come to wield the brand,

On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

8Four he hurt, an five he slew,On the dowy houms o Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,An ran his body thorrow.

Four he hurt, an five he slew,

On the dowy houms o Yarrow,

Till that stubborn knight came him behind,

An ran his body thorrow.

9‘Gae hame. gae hame, good-brother John,An tell your sister SarahTo come an lift her noble lord,Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’

‘Gae hame. gae hame, good-brother John,

An tell your sister Sarah

To come an lift her noble lord,

Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’

10‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream;I kend there wad be sorrow;I dreamd I pu’d the heather green,On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream;

I kend there wad be sorrow;

I dreamd I pu’d the heather green,

On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

11She gaed up yon high, high hill—I wat she gaed wi sorrow—An in a den spy’d nine dead men,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

She gaed up yon high, high hill—

I wat she gaed wi sorrow—

An in a den spy’d nine dead men,

On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

12She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,As oft she did before, O;She drank the red blood frae him ran,On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,

As oft she did before, O;

She drank the red blood frae him ran,

On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

13‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,For what needs a’ this sorrow?I’ll wed you on a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’

‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,

For what needs a’ this sorrow?

I’ll wed you on a better lord

Than him you lost on Yarrow.’

14‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An dinna grieve your Sarah;A better lord was never bornThan him I lost on Yarrow.

‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,

An dinna grieve your Sarah;

A better lord was never born

Than him I lost on Yarrow.

15‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,For they hae bred our sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gane madWhan they cam first to Yarrow.’

‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,

For they hae bred our sorrow;

I wiss that they had a’ gane mad

Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’

“From Nelly Laidlaw.” In the handwriting of William Laidlaw, “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 20 a, Abbotsford.

1Late in the eenin, drinkin the wine,Or early in the mornin,The set a combat them between,To fight it out i the dawnin.2She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair,As she did ay afore, O,She’s belted him in his noble brown,Afore he gaed to Yarrow.3Then he’s away oer yon high hill—A wait he’s gane wi sorrow—An in a den he spied nine armd men,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.4‘If I see ye a’, ye ‘r nine for ane,But ane’s [un]equal marrow;Yet as lang’s I’m able wield my brand,I’ll fight an bear ye marrow.5‘There are twa swords into my sheath,The’re ane and equal marrow;Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst,An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’6He has slain a’ the nine men,A ane an equal marrow,But up there startit a stuborn lord,That gard him sleep on Yarrow.* * * * * *7‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne,An tell yer sister SarahThat she may gang an seek her lord,He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’8‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen,I thought it wad be sorrow;I thought I was pouin the hether greenOn the dowie banks o Yarrow.’9Then she’s away oer yon high hill—I wat she’s gane wi sorrow—And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.10‘My love was a’ clad oer last nightWi the finest o the tartan,But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red,An he’s red bluid to the garten.’11She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair,As she had done before, O;She drank the red bluid that frae him ran,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.12‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye,For they’ve bred muckle sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gaen madAfore they came to Yarrow.’13‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear,For this breeds ay but sorrow;I’ll wed you to a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’14‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear,For ye but breed mair sorrow;A better rose will never springThan him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’15This lady being big wi child,An fu o lamentation,She died within her father’s arms,Amang this stuborn nation.

1Late in the eenin, drinkin the wine,Or early in the mornin,The set a combat them between,To fight it out i the dawnin.

Late in the eenin, drinkin the wine,

Or early in the mornin,

The set a combat them between,

To fight it out i the dawnin.

2She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair,As she did ay afore, O,She’s belted him in his noble brown,Afore he gaed to Yarrow.

She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair,

As she did ay afore, O,

She’s belted him in his noble brown,

Afore he gaed to Yarrow.

3Then he’s away oer yon high hill—A wait he’s gane wi sorrow—An in a den he spied nine armd men,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

Then he’s away oer yon high hill—

A wait he’s gane wi sorrow—

An in a den he spied nine armd men,

On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

4‘If I see ye a’, ye ‘r nine for ane,But ane’s [un]equal marrow;Yet as lang’s I’m able wield my brand,I’ll fight an bear ye marrow.

‘If I see ye a’, ye ‘r nine for ane,

But ane’s [un]equal marrow;

Yet as lang’s I’m able wield my brand,

I’ll fight an bear ye marrow.

5‘There are twa swords into my sheath,The’re ane and equal marrow;Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst,An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’

‘There are twa swords into my sheath,

The’re ane and equal marrow;

Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst,

An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’

6He has slain a’ the nine men,A ane an equal marrow,But up there startit a stuborn lord,That gard him sleep on Yarrow.

He has slain a’ the nine men,

A ane an equal marrow,

But up there startit a stuborn lord,

That gard him sleep on Yarrow.

* * * * * *

7‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne,An tell yer sister SarahThat she may gang an seek her lord,He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne,

An tell yer sister Sarah

That she may gang an seek her lord,

He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’

8‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen,I thought it wad be sorrow;I thought I was pouin the hether greenOn the dowie banks o Yarrow.’

‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen,

I thought it wad be sorrow;

I thought I was pouin the hether green

On the dowie banks o Yarrow.’

9Then she’s away oer yon high hill—I wat she’s gane wi sorrow—And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

Then she’s away oer yon high hill—

I wat she’s gane wi sorrow—

And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men,

On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

10‘My love was a’ clad oer last nightWi the finest o the tartan,But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red,An he’s red bluid to the garten.’

‘My love was a’ clad oer last night

Wi the finest o the tartan,

But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red,

An he’s red bluid to the garten.’

11She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair,As she had done before, O;She drank the red bluid that frae him ran,On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She drank the red bluid that frae him ran,

On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

12‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye,For they’ve bred muckle sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gaen madAfore they came to Yarrow.’

‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye,

For they’ve bred muckle sorrow;

I wiss that they had a’ gaen mad

Afore they came to Yarrow.’

13‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear,For this breeds ay but sorrow;I’ll wed you to a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’

‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear,

For this breeds ay but sorrow;

I’ll wed you to a better lord

Than him you lost on Yarrow.’

14‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear,For ye but breed mair sorrow;A better rose will never springThan him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’

‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear,

For ye but breed mair sorrow;

A better rose will never spring

Than him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’

15This lady being big wi child,An fu o lamentation,She died within her father’s arms,Amang this stuborn nation.

This lady being big wi child,

An fu o lamentation,

She died within her father’s arms,

Amang this stuborn nation.

“Carterhaugh, June 15, 1802.” “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 135, Abbotsford.

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