Inglis Collection of printed music > Printed music > Songs of Scotland prior to Burns

BUSK YE, BUSK YE. 355
' For she has tint her luver deir,
Her luver deir, the cause of sorrow ;
And I ha'e slain the conieliest swain
That e'er pu'd birks on the braes of Yarrow.
' Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, red ?
Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow ?
And why yon melancholious weids,
Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow ?
' What 's yonder floats on the rueful nude ?
What 's yonder floats ? — Oh, dule and sorrow I
"Tis he, the comely swain I slew
Upon the dulefu' braes of Yarrow !
' Wash, oh, wash his wounds in tears,
His wounds in tears o' dule and sorrow ;
And wrap his limbs in mourning weids,
And lay him on the banks of Yarrow.
' Then build, then build, ye sisters sad,
Ye sisters sad, his tomb wi' sorrow ;
And weip around, in waefu' wise,
His hapless fate on the braes of Yarrow !
' Curse ye, curse ye, his useless shield,
The arm that wrocht the deed of sorrow,
The fatal spear that pierced his breist,
His comely breist, on the braes of Yarrow !
' Did I not warn thee not to love,
And warn from fight ? But, to my sorrow,
Too rashly bold, a stronger arm thou met'st,
Thou met'st, and fell on the braes of Yarrow.
' Sweit smells the birk ; green grows the grass ;
Yellow on Yarrow's braes the gowan ;
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock ;
Sweit the wave of Yarrow fiowin' !