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Nse daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing & sabbing;
 Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her away.

In har’st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering:
 Bandsters are wrunkled, and lyart, or grey:
At fairs, or at preachings, nae wooing, nae fleeching,
 The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.
At e’en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming
 'bout stacks, with the lasses, at bogle or play;
But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her deary,
 The flowers of the forest are weded away.

Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the border!
 The English, for ance, by guile wan the day:
The flowers of the forest, that fought ay the foremost,
 The prime of our land are cauld in the clay.
We’ll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking,
 Women and bairns are heartless and wae!
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning,
 The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.

 

———x———

 

The Banks of Inverury.

One day as I was walking,
 And as I did pass,
On the banks of Inverury,
 I spied a bonny lass;