The
Dowie Dens of Yarrow
This is one of the most famous of the Border Ballads and tells the tragic story two young lovers torn apart because one was a noble and the other a peasant.
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 the wine,
As oft they'd done afore o;
They hae made a vow among themselves
To fecht wi him on Yarrow.
She's washed his face and kaimed his hair,
As oft she's done afore o'
She's made him like a knight sae bright
To fecht for her on Yarrow.
As he gaed up the Tennies bank,
I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,
'Twas there he met nine armed men
On the dowie houms o Yarrow.
"There's nine o you, there's ane o me,
It's an unequal marrow,
But I'll fecht ye a' ane by ane
On the dowie dens o Yarrow".
Four has he hurt and five has slain,
On the bloody braes of Yarrow,
Till her brother John came from behind,
And ran his body thorough.
"O Father, dear, I dreamed a dream,
A dream o dule and sorrow;
I dreamed I pu'ed the heather bell
On the dowie dens o Yarrow".
"O dochter dear, I read your dream,
I doubt it will bring sorrow,
For your ain true love lies pale and wan,
On the dowie dens o Yarrow".
As she sped up yon high, high hill,
I wot she gaed wi sorrow,
And in the den spied ten slain men,
On the dowie houms o Yarrow.
Her hair it being three quarters lang,
The colour it was yellow,
She wrappit it roond his middle sae sma,
And bore him doon to Yarrow.
She washed his face and kaimed his hair,
As oft she'd done afore o,
An' she's washed the reid blude frae his wounds
Wi muckle grief an sorrow.
"Now haud your tears, my daughter dear,
For a' this breeds but sorrow;
I'll wed ye to a better lord,
Than him ye lost on Yarrow".
"O Faither dear, you've seiven sons,
You may wed them a the morrow,
For the fairest floo'er amang them a
Was the lad I loo'ed on Yarrow".
This fair maid being big with child,
A fact which did cause sorrow,
She lay deid in her lover's airms,
Between that day and morrow.