I wat it was with sorrow—
And in a den she spied nine slain men,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
7
O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She drank the bleed that from him ran,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
8
‘Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye,