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Ewan MacColl
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The Dowie Dens of Yarrow (Child 214)
There was a lady in the north,
I ne'er could find her marrow,
She was courted by nine gentlemen
And a ploughboy lad frae Yarrow.
These nine sat drinkin' at the wine,
Sat drinkin' wine on Yarrow,
They made a vow among themselves
Tae fecht for her on Yarrow.
As he walked up yon high, high hill
And doon by the houms o' Yarrow,
There he saw nine armed men
Came to fecht wi' him on Yarrow.
There's nine o' you, there's one o' me,
It's an unequal marrow,
But I'll fecht you all one by one
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow.
And three they flew, and three he slew,
And three he wounded sairly,
'Till her brither John came in beyond,
And pierced his heart most foully.
'O fither dear, I dream'd a dream,
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A dream o' dule and sorrow.
I dream'd I was pu'dn my heather bell
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow.'
'O dochter dear, I read your dream,
I doubt it will bring sorrow.
For your lover John lies pale and wan
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow.'
As she walked up yon high high hill
And doon by the houms o' Yarrow,
There she saw her lover dear,
Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.
Her hair it being three quarters lang,
The colour it was yellow.
She's wrapped it roond his middle sae small
And bore him doon tae Yarrow.
'O faither, ye hae siven sons,
Ye may wed them a' timorrow.
For the fairest floo'er among them a'
Was the lad I loo'ed on Yarrow,
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