On the Flowers of the Forest

Flodden Memorial, erected 1910

One of the many ancient pieces of Scottish music, the Flowers of the Forest continues to stand the test of time for laments played on the bagpipes. The earliest written version of the tune was in the early 1600’s in a manuscript by John Skene. Then called “Flowers of the Forrest” the tune has become synonymous with playing at funerals or memorial services In 1756, Jean Elliot wrote the memorable lyrics to the somber yet powerful song about the losses during the Battle of Flodden Field in northern England in 1513 against the army of Henry VIII. Although possibly not the author of the original lyrics, she captured the sentiments and grief felt at the loss of their loved ones in battle as well as the loss of Scotland’s King James IV. For the past 150+ years, Flowers of the Forest was the tune to be played at funerals. Today everyone thinks of Amazing Grace as the tune to play at memorials, yet this wonderful piece is relatively modern.

When I was leaning the tune initially, my piping tutor told me that to play the tune except at funeral or memorial (or practice) was unlucky. Here are the lyrics:

The Flowers of the Forest
Lyrics by Jean Elliot

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.