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Found in 1806.abc from the John Chambers music book abc collection
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the BRAES OF YARROW 1806 Busk ye, busk ye, my bon ny bride; Busk ye, busk ye, my win some mar row; Busk ye, busk ye, my bon ny bride, And let us to the braes of Yar row. tr There will we sport and ga ther dew, Danc ing while lav' rocks sing in the morn ing, tr There learn frae tur tles to prove true: O tr Bell, ne'er vex me with thy scorn ing. 2. To westlin breezes Flora yields, And when the beams are kindly warming, Blytheness appears o'er all the fields, And Nature looks mair fresh and charming. Learn frae the burns, that trace the mead, Though on their banks the roses blossom, Yet hastily they flow to Tweed, And pour their sweetness in his bosom. 3. Haste ye, haste ye, my bonny Bell, Haste to my arms, and there I'll guard thee; With free consent my fears repel, I'll with my love and care reward thee. Thus sang I saftly to my fair, Wha rais'd my hopes wi' kind relenting: O, queen of smiles! I ask nae mair, Since now my bonny Bell's consenting. the BRAES OF YARROW the old words to the same air 1. Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow; Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bride; Think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. Where, where gat ye that bonny bride? Where, where gat ye that winsome marrow? 'Twas where I daur nae weel be seen, By the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 2. Weep not, weep not, my bonny bride, Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow, Nor let thy heart lament to leave The birks upon the Braes of Yarrow. Why does she weep, thy bonny bride? Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow? And why daur ye nae weel be seen By the birks on the Braes of Yarrow? 3. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she weep, Lang maun she weep wi' dule and sorrow, And lang maun I nae mair be seen By 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 youth By the birks on the Braes of Yarrow, 4. Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, red? Why on thy braes the voice of sorrow? And why yon melancholious weeds, Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow? What's yonder on the rueful stream? What yonder floats? O dule and sorrow! 'Tis he, the comely swain I slew Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. 5. Wash ye, O wash his wounds in tears, His wounds in. tears with dule and sorrow, And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds, And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow. Then build, then build, ye sisters sad, Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow, And weep around in waefu' wise. Weep his fate on the Braes of Yarrow. 6: Curse ye, curse ye his useless shield, My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow, The fatal spear that pierc'd his breast, His breast upon the Braes of Yarrow! Did I not warn thee not to lu'e, And warn from fight? but, to my sorrow, O'er rashly bold, a stronger arm Thou met'st, upon the Braes of Yarrow* 7. Sweet smells the birk, green grows the grass; Yellow on Yarrow banks the gowan, Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, And sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan, Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet flows Tweed, As green its grass, its gowan yellow; As sweet smells on its braes the birk, The apple frae the rock as mellow. 8. Fair was thy luve, fair fair thy luve; In flow'ry bands thou him didst fetter; Though he was weel beluv'd again, Than me he never lu'ed thee better. Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, And lu'e me on the banks of Tweed; Think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. 9. How can I busk a bonny bride? How can I busk a winsome marrow? How lu'e thee on the banks of Tweed, That slew him on the Braes of Yarrow? O Yarrow fields, may never rain Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover; For there was basely slain my luve, My luve, as he'd ne'er been a luver. 10. The boy put on his robes of green, His purple vest, 'twas my own sewing; Ah, wretched me! I little kend He was in these to meet his ruin. The boy took out his milk-white steed, Unheedful of my dule and sorrow, But ere the toofal of the night, Lay slain upon the Braes of Yarrow! 11. Much I rejoiced, that waeful day; I sang, my voice the woods returning; But lang ere night the spear was flown, That slew my luve, and left me mourning! What can my barb'rous father do, But with unfeeling rage pursue me? My luver's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou, cruel man, then woo me? 12. My happy sisters, in their pride, With bitter and ungentle scoffin. May bid me seek, on Yarrow Braes, My luver nailed in his coffin. My brother Douglas may upbraid, And try with threat'ning words to move me; My luver's blood is on thy spear; How canst thou ever bid me luve thee? 13. Yes, yes, prepare the bed of love; With bridal sheets my body cover; Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door, Let in th' expected husband luver. But who th' expected husband is? His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaughter; Ah me ! what ghastly spectre's yon, Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after? 14. Pale as he is, here lay him down, O lay his cold head on my pillow; Take off, take off these bridal weeds, And crown my careful head with willow. Pale though thou art, yet best beluv'd, O could my warmth to life restore thee! Yet lie all night between my breasts, No youth lay ever there before thee. 15. Pale, pale indeed, O luvely youth, Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter! And lie all night between my breasts; No youth shall ever lie there after. Return, return, O mournful bride, Return and dry thy useless sorrow; Thy luver heeds nought of thy sighs; He lies slain on the Braes of Yarrow. www.abcnotation.com/tunes

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