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Roud 13, Child 214. It is also known as "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow" and as "The Braes of Yarrow.” I’ve always loved this song in its Scottish iterations, especially sung by Karine Polwart on her album Fairest Floo’er, but it wasn’t until I heard Tim Eriksen’s version on Banjo, Fiddle and Voice that I felt compelled to arrange it for myself. Lyrically, I more or less combined their two versions.
lyrics
There was a lady in the north
You scarce would find her marrow.
She was courted by nine gentlemen
And the ploughboy lad from Yarrow.
These nine sat drinking at the wine
As oft they’d done before-o.
And they made a vow among them all
To fight for her on Yarrow.
He’s come over hill and over dale
Down by the streams so narrow.
And there he spied nine armed men
Come to fight with him on Yarrow.
“There’s nine of you and but one of me,
It’s an unequal marrow.
But I’ll fight you all one by one
On the dewy dens of Yarrow.”
So it’s three he slew and three withdrew,
And three he wounded sorely.
‘Til her brother he came from behind
And he wounded him most cruelly.
“Go home, go home, you false young man
And bring your sister sorrow.
For her true love John lies pale and wan
On the dewy dens of Yarrow.”
“Oh, brother I have dreamed a dream,
A dream of grief and sorrow.
I dreamed I was pulling the heather bells
On the dewy dens of Yarrow.”
“Oh, sister, dear, I can read your dream
Read in it grief and sorrow.
Your true love John lies dead and gone
On the dewy dens of Yarrow.”
She wrung her hands and tore her hair
All in grief and sorrow
She tore a ribbon from out her hair
That she had received in Yarrow.
Then over hill and over dale
And to the streams so narrow,
‘Til she came upon her true love John,
All dead and gone in Yarrow.
Her hair it was three quarters long
The color it was yellow.
She tied it round his middle so small
And she bore him home from Yarrow.
“Oh, daughter dear, don’t weep and mourn
In mortal grief and sorrow.
I can marry you to a much nobler man
Than the one you lost in Yarrow.”
“Oh, father, you have seven sons,
You can wed them each tomorrow.
But the fairest flower among them all
Was the one I lost in Yarrow.”
“Oh, mother, mother, go make my bed,
Go make it long and narrow.
For my love has died for me this day,
I will die for him tomorrow.”
Molly's original songs are a great fit alongside traditional songs (or on their own, of course), and her sweet, crystal clear voice draws you into her stories. Lindsay Straw
This album speaks to the continuum of African diasporic culture that is central to the vibrant canon of Americana folk music. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 29, 2020
