They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough,—
They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow!
No longer from thy window look;
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!
No longer seek him east or west,
And search no more the forest thorough!
For, wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.
The tear shall never leave my cheek;
No other youth shall be my marrow:
I'll seek thy body in the stream,
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow."
The tear did never leave her cheek;
No other youth became her marrow;
She found his body in the stream,
And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.
Busk ye, busk ye.
[Written, with the exception of the first four lines, which are old, by Allan Ramsay, and sung to the fine tune called "The Braes of Yarrow."]
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow,
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie bride,
And let us to the braes of Yarrow.
There will we sport and gather dew,
Dance while lav'rocks sing in the morning;
Then learn frae turtles to prove true,
O Bell, ne'er vex me with thy scorning!
To westlin' breezes Flora yields,
And when the beams are kindly warming,
Blythness appears o'er all the fields,
And nature looks mair fresh and charming.
Learn frae the burns that trace the mead,
Though on their banks the roses blossom,
Yet hastily they flow to Tweed,
And pour their sweetness in his bosom.
Haste ye, haste ye, my bonnie Bell,
Haste to my arms, and there I'll guard thee;
With free consent my fears repel,
I'll with my love and care reward thee.
Thus sang I saftly to my fair,
Wha rais'd my hopes with kind relenting,
O! queen of smiles, I ask nae mair,
Since now my bonnie Bell's consenting.
The Braes of Yarrow.
[This is a production of William Hamilton of Bangour, and was first printed in the Tea Table Miscellany. It professes to have been written "in imitation of the ancient manner." There is an old ballad called "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow," but this bears no resemblance to it.]
A." Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow!
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride,
And think nae mair of the braes of Yarrow."
B." Where gat ye that bonnie, bonnie bride?
Where gat ye that winsome marrow?"
A." I gat her whare I daurna weel be seen,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.
Weip not, weip not, my bonnie, bonnie bride,
Weip not, weip not, my winsome marrow!
Nor let thy heart lament to leive .
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow."
B." Why does she weip, thy bonnie, bonnie bride?
Why does she weip thy winsome marrow?
And why daur ye nae mair weel be seen,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?"
A." Lang maun she weip, lang maun she, maun she weip,
Lang maun she weip wi' dule and sorrow,
And lang maun I nae mair weel be seen,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.
For she has tint her luver, luver deir,
Her luver deir, the cause of sorrow;
And I ha'e slain the comeliest swain
That e'er pu'd birks on the braes of Yarrow.
Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, red?
Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow?
And why yon melancholious weids,
Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow?
