There was a lady in the north
I ne'er find her marrow
She was courted by nine gentlemen
And a plooboy lad frae Yarrow

These nine sat drinking at the wine
Sat drinking wine in Yarrow
They made a vow bemongst themselves
To fight for her on Yarrow

As he walked up yon high, high hill
And Doon been the houms o Yarrow
There he saw nine armed men
Come to fight wi’ him on Yarrow

“There's nine o ye, there's ane o me
It’s an unequal marrow
But I'll fecht ye all ane by ane
On the dowie dens o Yarrow.”

And there they few and there he slew
And there he wounded sorely
Till her brother John came in beyond
And pierced his heart most foully

O father dear I dreamed a dream
A dream o' duel and sorrow
I dreamed I was pulling the heather bell
On the Dowie Dens of Yarrow
“Dochter dear, I read your dream
I [dout?] it will bring sorrow
For your lover John lies pale an wan
On the dowie dens o Yarrow.”

An she walked up yon high, high hill
An doon be the houms o Yarrow
There she saw her lover dear
Lyin pale and dead on Yarrow

Her hair it bein three quarters lang
The colour it was yellow
She's wrapped it roon his middle sae sma
An bore him Doon tae Yarrow

“O Faither dear, ye've seiven sons
Ye may wad them aa the morrow
For the fairest flouer amang them aa
Wis the lad I loued on Yarrow.”