Bold dragoon/Yarrow

yarrow

I dream’d a dreary dream last night,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow,
I dream’d I pu’d the birk sae green,
Wi' my true love on Yarrow.

I'll read your dream my sister dear,
I'll tell you a’ your sorrow:
Ye pu’d the birk wi’ your true love,
He’s kill’d, he’s kill’d on Yarrow.

O gentle wind that bloweth south
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss to his dear mouth,
And tell me how he faireth.

But o’er yon glen run arm’d men,
Have wrought me dool and sorrow,
They’ve slain, they’ve slain the comeliest swain
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.