The Book of Scottish Song/The Flower of Yarrow

The Flower of Yarrow.

[We can say nothing either of the age or authorship of this song. We find it in a collection of songs published at Glasgow in 1786, called "The British Songster."]

In ancient times as songs rehearse,
One charming nymph employ'd each verse,
She reign'd alone without a marrow,
Mary Scott the flower of Yarrow.

Our fathers with such beauty fir'd,
This matchless fair in crowds admir'd:
Tho' matchless then, yet here's her marrow,
Mary Scott the flower of Yarrow.

Whose beauty unadorn'd by art,
With Virtue join'd attracts each heart;
Her negligence itself would charm you,
She scarcely knows her power to warm you.

For ever cease Italian noise;
Let every string and every voice,
Sing Mary Scott without a marrow,
Mary Scott the flower of Yarrow.

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