Anonymous

The Flower of Yarrow

O, MARY ’s red, and Mary ’s white,
And Mary she ’s the king’s delight;
The king’s delight and the prince’s marrow,
Mary Scott, the flower of Yarrow.

When I look east, my heart grows sair;
But when I look west, it ’s mair and mair;
And when I look to the banks of Yarrow,
There I mind my winsome marrow.

Now she ’s gone to Edinburgh town,
To buy braw ribbons to tie her gown;
She ’s bought them broad, and laid them narrow,—
Mary Scott is the flower of Yarrow.