Yarrow by Pentangle
There was a lady from the North,
One scarse could find her marrow,
She was courted by nine gentlemen,
And a ploughboy lad from Yarrow.
These nine sat drinking at the wine,
As they had done before,
They made a vow amongst themselves,
To fight for her on Yarrow.
She's washed his face, she's combed his hair,
As she has done before,
She's placed a brand down by his side,
To fight for her on Yarrow.
As he came down yon high, high hill,
And down the halls of Yarrow.
There he spied nine armed men.
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