Coll. by M.C. Parler Max Hunter
Reel 350, Item 4
The Dewy Dens Of Yarrow
There were five sons and two were twins There were five sons of Yarrow,
They all did fight for their own true love In the dewy dens of Yarrow.
Oh, Mother dear, I had a dream,
A dream of grief and sorrow,
I dreamed I was gathering heather s In the dewy dens of Yarrow.
Oh, Daughter dear, I rede your dream,
Your dream of grief and sorrow,
Your love, your love is lying slain In the dewy dens of Yarrow.
She sought him up, she sought him down,
She sought him all through Yarrow,
And then she found her own true love On the banks in the dens of Yarrow.
She washed his face, she combed his hair,
She combed it neat and narrow,
And then she washed that bloody, bloody wound That he got in the Yarrow.
Her hair it was three-quarters long,
The color it was yellow,
She wound it round his waist so small And took him home from Yarrow.
Oh Mother dear, go make my bed,
Go make it neat and narrow;
My love, my love he died for me,
I'll die for him tomorrow.
Oh Daughter dear, don't be so grieved,
So grieved with grief and sorrow;
I'll wed you to a better one Than you lost in the Yarrow.
-more-Reel 350, Item 4 Continued
She dressed herself in clean white clothes And away to the waters of Yarrow,
And there she laid her own self down And died on the banks of Yarrow.
And the wine that runs through the waters deep Came from the sons of Yarrow;
For they all died for their own true love,
In the dewy dens of Yarrow.
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