Peter Michael Woods
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Peter Michael Woods |
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30-04-1935 25-04-2009 |
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The Flowers of the Forest I've heard the singing, at the ewe-milking, Lassies a-singing before dawn of the day; But now they are moaning on every milking-green; "The Flowers of the Forest are all withered away". Sorrow and woe for the order sent our lads to the Border! The English for once, by guile won the day, The Flowers of the Forest, that always fought the foremost, The pride of our land lies cold in the clay. I've heard the singing, at the ewe-milking, Lassies a-singing before dawn of the day; But now they are moaning on every milking-green; "The Flowers of the Forest are all withered away". |