Classic Poem

She kissd his mouth and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She belted him in his noble broun,
Before he went to Yarrow.

O he 's gone up yon high, [high] hill —
I wat it was with sorrow —
In a den he spied nine weal armd men,
On the bonny banks of Yarrow.

" I see that you are nine for one,
Which are of an unequal marrow;
As lang 's I 'm able to wield my bran,
I 'll fight and be your marrow."

O he has killed them a' but one,
Which bred to him great sorrow;
For up and rose that stubborn lord,
Made him sleep sound in Yarrow.

" Rise up, rise up, my daughter Ann,
Go tell your sister Sarah
She may rise up go lift her lord;
He 's sleeping sound in Yarrow."

She 's gone up yon high, high hill —
I wat it was with sorrow —
And in a den she spied nine slain men,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She drank the bleed that from him ran,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

" Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye,
They 've bred to me great sorrow;
I wish they had all now gone mad
First when they came to Yarrow."

" O hold your tongue now, daughter dear,
These words to me 's great sorrow;
I 'll wed you on a better lord
Than you have lost on Yarrow."

" O hold your tongue now, father dear,
These words to me 's great sorrow;
A brighter O shall there never spread
Than I have lost in Yarrow."

This lady being big with child,
And full of lamentation,
She died unto her father's arms,
Among the stubborn nation.