In har’st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray; 10
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching—
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
At e’en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming
’Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play;
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie— 15
The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.
’Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border!
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;