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Poem by Anonymous

Carlisle Yetts

WHITE was the rose in his gay bonnet,
  As he faulded me in his broached plaidie,
His hand whilk clasped the truth luve,
  O it was ay in battle ready!
His long, long hair in yellow hanks
  Waved oer his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie;
But now they wave oer Carlisle yetts
  In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie.

My fathers blood s in that flower-tap,
  My brothers in that hare-bells blossom,
This white rose was steeped in my luves blood,
  An I ll ay wear it in my bosom.

*        *        *        *        *

When I came first by merry Carlisle,
  Was neer a town sae sweetly seeming;
The White Rose flaunted owre the wall,
  The thristled banners far were streaming!
When I came next by merry Carlisle,
  O sad, sad seemed the town an eerie!
The auld, auld men came out an wept,
  O maiden, come ye to seek yere dearie?

*        *        *        *        *

There s ae drop o blude atween my breasts,
  An twa in my links o hair sae yellow;
The tane I ll neer wash, an the tither neer kame,
  But I ll sit an pray aneath the willow.
Wae, wae upon that cruel heart,
  Wae, wae upon that hand sae bloodie,
Which feasts in our richest Scottish blude,
  An makes sae mony a doleful widow.


Poem Theme: Cities of England

Anonymous's other poems:
  1. Now, Robin, Lend to Me Thy Bow
  2. The Guard-Chamber
  3. Willy Drowned in Yarrow
  4. The Cave of Pope
  5. The Hermitage

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