Irish version
Jim Carroll

THE DEWY GLENS OF YARROW

1   There was a lady from the North,
I ne'er could find her marrow;
She was courted by nine noblemen
And her ploughboy John from Yarrow.

2 These noblemen sat drinking wine,
The wine they sat a drinking
And each of them did make a vow
To fight for her on Yarrow.

3   Her father had but one ploughboy,
It was said she loved him dearly;
She dressed him up in nobleman's clothes
To fight for her on Yarrow.

4   There were three he slew and three he drew
And three lay sorely wounded,
When her false young brother from behind a tree
Slew him with an arrow.

5   'Go home, go home, you false young man,
And tell your sister Sarah
That her ploughboy John lies dead and gone
On the dewy glens of Yarrow.'

6   Her hair it hung three quarters long
And the colour of it was yellow;
She tied it round his waist so small
And carried him home from Yarrow,

7   'Oh father dear, dig me a grave
And dig it long and narrow;
My true love died for me today,
I'll die for him tomorrow.'

8   'Oh daughter dear, dry up your tears
And think no more on Yarrow
For I'll wed thee to a higher degree
Than your ploughboy John from Yarrow.

9   'Oh father, you have seven sons,
You may wed them all tomorrow,
But the sweetest flower that ever grew
Lies dead for me on Yarrow.'

Mrs Brigid Murphy (b. 1913), housewife, Forkhill, Co. Armagh, in the Forester's Hall, Forkhill, on 1 Oct. 1983 during a 'sing-around'. Rec. TM. Child no 214