Lyrics

[Intro] This is a song that I enjoy doing, very much. It's an old Scottish thing called yarrow [Verse] There was a lady in the nor' I ne're did see her mare o She was courted by nine gentlemen And a poor plowboy frae Yarrow These nine sat drinking at the wine Sat drinking wine in Yarrow And they did 'cide bemongst themselves To fight for her on Yarrow Now she washed his face and she caned his hair As she had done before o She made him like the handsome lord To fight for her on Yarrow And he did fight them one a time Yay he did fight most fairly 'Til from behind one false young man Did pierce his heart most squarely O father did I dreamed a dream I know it does mean sorrow I dreamed I pulled the heather and the rue On the Dowie Dens of Yarrow So she walked out on yon high, high hill As she had done before o And there she found her lover gone Lyin' pale and cold on Yarrow Now her hair it bein' three yards long And the color, it was yellow She wrapped it 'round his middle sae small And she bore him down frae Yarrow Soon nine they came to call on her Cryin which one will she mare o She said I'll not marry a one aye ye For ye slew me love on Yarrow And you left me to sing sorrow