I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,
Lasses a-lilting before dawn o' day
Now they are moaning on ilka green loaning
The flowers o' the forest are a' wede away

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

At e'en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming
'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play;
But ilk ane sits eerie, lamenting her dearie
The flowers o' the forest are a' wede away

We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning
The flowers o' the forest are a' wede away