John Wall Callcott - The Banks of the Yarrow - текст песни (слова)

While the moon-beams, all bright, 
 Give a lustre to night,
 I'll weep on his dwelling so narrow;
 And high o'er his grave
 The willow trees wave,
 Who died on the banks of the Yarrow.
 
 'Twas under this shade, 
 Hand in hand as we strayed,
 He fell by the flight of an arrow;
 And fast from the wound
 His blood stained the ground,
 Who died on the banks of the Yarrow.