Recently listened to Mick Hanly's excellent "Dewy Dens of Yarrow" and multiple searches have come up blank in trying to find this particular variation of the Dowy Dens classic, so I'm posting them here. Please feel free to check them, the song is on YouTube here. There's one line I've come up blank, the third line of the second verse. It sounds like I'm hearing "sail" and "forth" but can't seem to get what he says in between. Or I might be hearing "far" and not "forth." I also wondering where this variation comes from, given the use of "Dewy" instead of "Dowie." Perhaps a variation that circulated in Canada? DEWY DENS OF YARROW (Mick Hanley) There lived a lady in the South The fairest flower in Yarrow And she refused nine noblemen For a ploughboy from Gala Then up bespoke her father dear Who brought them all this sorrow Saying sail ----- forth for/far to fight the nine On the dewy dens of Yarrow She kissed his lips and combed his hair Her heart being full of sorrow Then she set him on her milk white steed Which brought him down to Yarrow As he came o'er yon high high hill Down by the haughs of Yarrow There did he see the nine lords all But there wasn't one his marrow He said you're nine and I'm but one In that there's not much marrow Yet I will fight ye man for man To gain the flower of Yarrow Then three he slew and three withdrew And three lay deadly wounded When her brother John stepped in between And he stuck his knife right through him He never spoke more words than these And these were words of sorrow You can tell my true love if you please I'm sleeping sound in Yarrow They took this young man by the heels And trailed him like a harrow And there they flung this comely youth In a whirlpool in Yarrow Oh brother dear I dreamed a dream A dream of dool (duel?) and sorrow I dreamed that you were spilling blood On the dewy dens of Yarrow Oh sister dear I read your dream I doubt it will bring sorrow You may go and seek your true love at home For he's sleeping sound in Yarrow As she went o'er yon high high hill Down by the haughs of Yarrow There did she see her own true love Lying deeply drowned in Yarrow This fair maid's hair being three quarters long The colour it was yellow She tied it around his little waist And drew him out of Yarrow She kissed his lips and combed his hair As oft she'd done before-o And she laid him on her milk white steed Which brought him home from Yarrow Oh daughter dear wipe up your tears And weep no more in sorrow For I will bring you to a higher degree Than a ploughboy from Gala Oh hold your tongue my father dear I cannot help my sorrow For a flower like my own true love Will never bloom in Yarrow This fair maid she being tall and slim The fairest maid in Yarrow She laid her head in her father's arms And she died in grief and sorrow
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