The braes of Yarrow

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow,

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.

Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride?

Where gat ye that winsome marrow?

I gat her where I dare na weil be seen,

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride,

Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow,

Nor let thy heart lament to leive

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride?

Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow?

And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow?

Lang maun she weep, lang maun she weep,

Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow,

And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

For she has tint her luver dear,

Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow!

And I hae slain the comeliest swain

That e'er pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow.