6 She’s gone up yon high, high hill— I wat it was with sorrow— And in a den she spied nine slain men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 7 O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair, As she had done before, O; She drank the bleed that from him ran, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 8 ‘Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye, They’ve bred to me great sorrow; I wish they had all now gone mad First when they came to Yarrow.’ 9 ‘O hold your tongue now, daughter dear, These words to me’s great sorrow; I’ll wed you on a better lord Than you have lost on Yarrow.’ 10 ‘O hold your tongue now, father dear, These words to me’s great sorrow; A brighter O shall there never spread Than I have lost in Yarrow.’ 11 This lady being big with child, And full of lamentation, She died unto her father’s arms, Among the stubborn nation. * * * * * H Campbell MSS, II, 55. 1 ’Twas late at evening drinking wine, And early in the morning, He set a combat them among, And he fought it in the morning. * * * * * * 2 ‘I have two swords by my side, They cost me both gold and money; Take ye the best, I’ll take the worst, Come man for man, I’ll try ye.’ 3 He has foughten them all round, His equal man and marrow, While up bespake the stubborn lord, ‘He’s made them sleep in Yarrow.’ 4 He says, Go home, my daughter Ann, And tell your sister Sarah To come and lift her stubborn lord; The lad’s made him sleep in Yarrow. 5 As she gaed up yon high, high hill, I wot she gaed right sorrow, And in a den spied nine well armd men, In the dowie dens of Yarrow. 6 ‘My love was dressd in the finest robes, And of the finest tartan, And now he’s a’ clad oer wi red, He’s bloody to the gartan!’ 7 ‘O hold yer tongue, daughter!’ he says, ‘That would breed but sorrow; Ye shall be wed to a finer lord Than the one you’ve lost in Yarrow.’ 8 ‘Hold your tongue, father!’ she says, ‘For that will breed but sorrow; A finer lord can neer be born Than the one I’ve lost in Yarrow. 9 ‘Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye, You’ve bred me muckle sorrow; I wish they’d a’ gane mad that day, That day they came to Yarrow.’ 10 This woman being big wi child, And full of lamentation, She died into her father’s arms, Among that stubborn nation. * * * * * I Buchan’s MSS, II, 161. 1 Ten lords sat drinking at the wine Intill a morning early; There fell a combat them among, It must be fought, nae parley. 2 ‘O stay at hame, my ain gude lord! O stay, my ain dear marrow!’ ‘Sweetest min, I will be thine, An dine wi you tomorrow.’