Recently listened to Mick Hanly's excellent "Dewy Dens of Yarrow" and multiple searches have come up blank in trying to find this particular variation of the Dowy Dens classic, so I'm posting them here. Please feel free to check them, the song is on YouTube here.

There's one line I've come up blank, the third line of the second verse. It sounds like I'm hearing "sail" and "forth" but can't seem to get what he says in between. Or I might be hearing "far" and not "forth." I also wondering where this variation comes from, given the use of "Dewy" instead of "Dowie." Perhaps a variation that circulated in Canada?

DEWY DENS OF YARROW
(Mick Hanley)

There lived a lady in the South
The fairest flower in Yarrow
And she refused nine noblemen
For a ploughboy from Gala

Then up bespoke her father dear
Who brought them all this sorrow
Saying sail ----- forth for/far to fight the nine
On the dewy dens of Yarrow

She kissed his lips and combed his hair
Her heart being full of sorrow
Then she set him on her milk white steed
Which brought him down to Yarrow

As he came o'er yon high high hill
Down by the haughs of Yarrow
There did he see the nine lords all
But there wasn't one his marrow

He said you're nine and I'm but one
In that there's not much marrow
Yet I will fight ye man for man
To gain the flower of Yarrow

Then three he slew and three withdrew
And three lay deadly wounded
When her brother John stepped in between
And he stuck his knife right through him

He never spoke more words than these
And these were words of sorrow
You can tell my true love if you please
I'm sleeping sound in Yarrow

They took this young man by the heels
And trailed him like a harrow
And there they flung this comely youth
In a whirlpool in Yarrow

Oh brother dear I dreamed a dream
A dream of dool (duel?) and sorrow
I dreamed that you were spilling blood
On the dewy dens of Yarrow

Oh sister dear I read your dream
I doubt it will bring sorrow
You may go and seek your true love at home
For he's sleeping sound in Yarrow

As she went o'er yon high high hill
Down by the haughs of Yarrow
There did she see her own true love
Lying deeply drowned in Yarrow

This fair maid's hair being three quarters long
The colour it was yellow
She tied it around his little waist
And drew him out of Yarrow

She kissed his lips and combed his hair
As oft she'd done before-o
And she laid him on her milk white steed
Which brought him home from Yarrow

Oh daughter dear wipe up your tears
And weep no more in sorrow
For I will bring you to a higher degree
Than a ploughboy from Gala

Oh hold your tongue my father dear
I cannot help my sorrow
For a flower like my own true love
Will never bloom in Yarrow

This fair maid she being tall and slim
The fairest maid in Yarrow
She laid her head in her father's arms
And she died in grief and sorrow