But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!
The English, for ance, be guile wan the day;
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,
The prime of our land, lie cauld in the clay.
We'll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning:
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.