Uploaded September 2021 | Updated September 2026, 2 days ago
The Donny Dims of the Arrow / The Dowie Dens of Yarrow / The Braes o Yarrow (Child No. 214) - Sung by Theodore Ashlaw of Hermon, New York, United States on "Adirondack Woods Singer" (1976) Philo - 1022. Recorded by Robert D. Bethke in August 1972.
Song transcription:
There lived a lady in the north,
She could scarcely find her arrow,
She was courted by nine noblemen,
At the donny dims of the Arrow.
These nine young men were drinking wine,
As they'd oftimes done before,
They raised an attempt among the nine,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
Her father had a young ploughboy,
And Sarah loved him dearly,
They dressed him up like a nobleman,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
Oh, will you take the hunting hounds,
Or will you take the arrow,
Or will you take the native sword,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
I will not take the hunting hounds,
Or I will not take the arrow,
But I will take the native sword,
And I'll fight for her at the Arrow.
Oh, he went way up on the high, high hill,
And down the lane so narrow;
'Twas there he spied nine noblemen
At the donny dims of the Arrow.
It's three he drew, and three he slain,
And three were badly wounded;
When her brother John from behind the bush
He shot him with his arrow.
"Go home, go home, you false young man,
And tell your sister Sarah
That her true-love John is dead and gone
At the donny dims of the Arrow."
"Oh, mother dear, I had a dream,
I hope it proves no sorrow;
I dreamed my true-love John was dead
At the donny dims of the Arrow."
"Oh, daughter dear, dry up your tears
And weep no more for sorrow,
For as fair a rose never bloomed in June,
Than the one you've lost at the Arrow."
She went way up on the high, high hill,
And down the lane so narrow,
And there she spied her true-love John,
He was dead and gone at the Arrow.
She washed his face and combed his hair,
As she'd ofttimes done before;
She wrapped a cloth around his slate
And drew him to her Arrow.
Now, mother dear, you have seven sons,
You may wed them all tomorrow,
But as fair a rose never bloomed in June
As the one I lost at the Arrow."
The Donny Dims of the Arrow / The Dowie Dens of Yarrow / The Braes o Yarrow (Child No. 214) - Sung by Theodore Ashlaw of Hermon, New York, United States on "Adirondack Woods Singer" (1976) Philo - 1022. Recorded by Robert D. Bethke in August 1972.
Song transcription:
There lived a lady in the north,
She could scarcely find her arrow,
She was courted by nine noblemen,
At the donny dims of the Arrow.
These nine young men were drinking wine,
As they'd oftimes done before,
They raised an attempt among the nine,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
Her father had a young ploughboy,
And Sarah loved him dearly,
They dressed him up like a nobleman,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
Oh, will you take the hunting hounds,
Or will you take the arrow,
Or will you take the native sword,
To fight for her at the Arrow.
I will not take the hunting hounds,
Or I will not take the arrow,
But I will take the native sword,
And I'll fight for her at the Arrow.
Oh, he went way up on the high, high hill,
And down the lane so narrow;
'Twas there he spied nine noblemen
At the donny dims of the Arrow.
It's three he drew, and three he slain,
And three were badly wounded;
When her brother John from behind the bush
He shot him with his arrow.
"Go home, go home, you false young man,
And tell your sister Sarah
That her true-love John is dead and gone
At the donny dims of the Arrow."
"Oh, mother dear, I had a dream,
I hope it proves no sorrow;
I dreamed my true-love John was dead
At the donny dims of the Arrow."
"Oh, daughter dear, dry up your tears
And weep no more for sorrow,
For as fair a rose never bloomed in June,
Than the one you've lost at the Arrow."
She went way up on the high, high hill,
And down the lane so narrow,
And there she spied her true-love John,
He was dead and gone at the Arrow.
She washed his face and combed his hair,
As she'd ofttimes done before;
She wrapped a cloth around his slate
And drew him to her Arrow.
Now, mother dear, you have seven sons,
You may wed them all tomorrow,
But as fair a rose never bloomed in June
As the one I lost at the Arrow."
