'Flowers of the forest' lyrics and history

'Flowers of the forest' lyrics and history

The ancient tune 'Flowers of the forest' is a famous Scottish song that is played as funerals and memorial services. Here are its lyrics

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Published: September 1, 2022 at 1:19 pm

How old is the tune 'Flowers of the forest' and why is it played at funerals and memorial services?

Flowers of the forest is a famous Scottish folk song that was written to mark mark the defeat of the Scottish army in 1513 at the Battle of Flodden and the death of James IV. The original lyrics are unknown but the melody was first published in the John Skene of Halyards Manuscript in around in 1615–1625. The melody is usually played on the great Highland bagpipe, however given its subject most pipers will only play it at funerals and memorial services.

Who wrote the 'Flowers of the forest' lyrics?

There are a few different versions of Flowers of the forest but its most famous version was written by Jean Elliot, a Scottish poet who helped her father escape a party of Jacobites when they came to arrest him.

'Flowers of the forest' lyrics

I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day; But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning- The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.

At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning, The lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae; Nae daffin’, nae gabbin’, but sighing and sabbing, Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.

In har’st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray; At fair or at preaching, nae wooing nae fleeching- The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.

At e’en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming ‘Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play; But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie- The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.

Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.

We’ll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking; Women and bairns are heartless and wae; Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning- The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.

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