The Flowers of the Forest
In the misty legends of Scotland, there are many songs that are
interwoven with the victories and defeats of her native sons in glorious
conflicts. The great pipes blew violently across the field as part of
the offensive tactics of the Chiefs.
You can almost feel them
pierce the air of a cold Scottish morning while lines of kilted warriors
come racing towards each other. The louder the noise, the more it covers
the sound of axes crashing into metal and bone. The cries of the
mortally wounded are covered with the bleating of the air rushing
through the reeds until the last sword is swung and the battle is done.
In the end, it is the music alone that remains. Lives end. Legends
are often the only survivors of a grand melee. Around the campfires at
night, men tell tales of the way the fight travelled form one end of the
field to another. Who won is often determined by who had the best
version that would last through antiquity and be recorded by a poet or
scribe. The main goal was to create a lasting enough memory to justify
their brave sacrifices and try to calm a mother’s broken heart.
The Flowers of the Forest is a memorial song derived from one of the
greatest and noblest defeats Scotland ever suffered, the
Battle
of Flodden Field. Some sources claim that over 10,000 Scottish souls were
lost including many of the nobles of the auld Scotland.
The song
has been used again and again over the years to honour and commemorate
the lives of men fallen in battle from across the British Isles. Besides
Amazing Grace, it will always be one of the most memorable of laments to
those who have served under the Union Jack.
The Flowers of the Forest
by Jane Elliott, eyewitness
1. I've
heard them liltin', at the ewe milkin,'
Lasses a-liltin' before dawn
of day.
Now there's a moanin', on ilka green loanin'.
The flowers
of the forest are a' wede away.
2. As boughts in the mornin', nae
blithe lads are scornin',
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae.
Nae
daffin', nae gabbin', but sighin' and sobbin',
Ilk ane lifts her
leglin, and hies her away.
3. At e'en in the gloamin', nae
swankies are roamin',
'Mang stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play.
But ilk maid sits drearie, lamentin' her dearie,
The flowers of the
forest are a' wede away.
4. In har'st at the shearin' nae
youths now are jeerin'
Bandsters are runkled, and lyart, or grey.
At fair or at preachin', nae wooin', nae fleecin',
The flowers of the
forest are a' wede away.
5. Dool 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 lie cauld in the clay.
6. We'll hae nae mair liltin', at
the ewe milkin',
Women and bairns are dowie and wae.
Sighin' and
moanin' on ilka green loanin',
The flowers of the forest are all wede
away.
Composed to commemorate the
Battle of Flodden Field
Any contributions will be
gratefully accepted
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