Dowie Dens Of Yarrow


There lived a lady in the North
You could scarcely find her marrow
She was courted by nine noble lords
And a plooman lad fae Yarrow

They nine sat drinking at the wine
Sat drinking wine in Yarrow
And they've made a vow among themselves
For tae fecht for her on Yarrow

She's washed his face, she's combed his hair
As oft she'd done afore oh
She's made him like a noble lord
For tae fecht for her on Yarrow

As he gaed doon the high, high hill
Doon tae the howe o' Yarrow
'Twas there he spied nine armed men
Come tae fecht wi' him on Yarrow

There's three he slew and three withdrew
And three he wounded sairly oh
Till her brother John came in fae behind
'And has wounded him most foully

"Oh, faither dear, I dreamed a dream
I doubt it will bring sorrow
I dreamed I pulled the heather green
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow"

So she gaed doon the high, high hill
Doon tae the howe o' Yarrow
And there she's found her lover John
Lying pale and wan on Yarrow

Her hair it was three quarters long
The color it was yellow
She's wrapped it round his middle sae small
And she's bore him up frae Yarrow

"Oh faither dear, ye've seven sons
Ye may wed them all tomorrow
For the fairest floo'r amang them a'
Was the lad that I lo'ed on Yarrow















Dowie Dens Of Yarrow


There was a lady in the north,
I ne'er could find her marrow;
She was courted by nine gentlemen,
And a ploughboy lad from Yarrow.

These nine sat drinking at their wine,
Sat drinking wine at Yarrow;
They made a vow among themselves
To fight with him on Yarrow.

She's washed his face, she's combed his hair
As oft she's done before o
Gave him a brand down by his side
To fight for her on Yarrow.

As he walked up yon high, high hills,
And down the glens so narrow
Nine armed men lay waiting him
Upon the braes of Yarrow.

It's three he wounded, three withdrew,
And three he killed on Yarrow,
Till her brother, John, came in behind
And pierced his body thorough.

"O father, dear, I dreamed a dream,
I fear it will prove sorrow.
I dreamed I was pulling heather green
On the dowie dens of Yarrow."

"O daughter dear, I read your dream,
To you it will prove sorrow;
Your true love John lies dead and slain
On the dowie dens of Yarrow."

As she walked up yon high, high hill,
And down the glen so narrow,
Twas there she found her true love John,
Lying cold and dead on Yarrow.

She washed his face, she combed his hair,
As she had done before o,
And she kissed the blood fra off his wounds,
On the dowie dens of Yarrow.

Her hair it being three quarters long,
The colour it was yellow,
She wrapped it round his middle so small,
And carried him home to Yarrow.

"O daughter dear, dry up your tears,
And weep no more for sorrow.
I'll wed you to a better man
Than the ploughboy lad of Yarrow."

"O father dear, you've seven sons,
You may wed them all tomorrow,
But the fairest flower among them all,
Was the lad I wooed on Yarrow."

Midi sequenced by Terry Stephens
Used with permission

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