Text divider from 'Flowers of the Forest', an undated chapbook printed in Haddington
The Battle of Flowdenhill.
I've heard of a lilting at our ewes milking, Lasses a lilting before the break of day; But now there's a moaning on ilka green loaning, That our braw foresters are a' wede away.
At bughts in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning, The lasses are lonely, dowie, and wae; Nae daffin, nae gabbin, but sighing and sabbing, Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.
At e'en at the gloamin, nae swankies are roaming, 'Mongst stacks with the lasses at bogle to play, But ilk ane sits dreary, lamenting her deary, The flowers of the forest that are wede away.
At har'ft, at the sheering, nae younkers are jearing, The ban'sters are runkled, lyart, and grey; At a fair, or a preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching, Since our braw foresters are a wede away.
O dool for the order, sent our lads to the border! The English, for ance, by guile gat the day; The flowers of the forest, that ay shone the foremost, The prime of our land lies cauld in the clay.
We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewes milking, The women and bairns are dowie and wae, Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning, Since our braw foresters are a' wede away.
