I have heard them lilting at the Ewe milking Lasses a lilting before dawn of Day But now they are moaning, on the glen loaning The Flowers of the Forist are weded away At bughts in the Morning na blith lads are scorning Lasses are lonely and dowie and wa Na daffing nae gabbing but sighing and sobing Ilk ane lifts her leglen & hies hir away In hairst at the shearing, nae youth now are jeering Bansters are runkled and lyart or gray At fair or at preaching, na wooing na fleeching The Flowers of the forest are weded awa At E'en in the gloaming nae younkers are roaming Bout stacks with the lasses, at Bogle to play But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her Deary The flower of the forest that weded away Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border The English for ance by Guile wan the Day The flowers of the forest that fought aye the foremaist The Prime of our Land are cau'd in the clay. We'll hear na mair lilting at the Ewe harding Women and bairns are heartless and wae Sighing and moaning in ilka spick Loaning The flowers of the forest are weded awa.
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Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin