I've heard the lilting, at our yowe-milking,
Lasses a-lilting, before the dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning:
The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede away.

At buchts in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning
The lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae;
Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing,
Ilk ane lifts her leglen and hies away.

In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering
The bandsters are lyart, and runkled and grey
At fair, or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching —
The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede away.

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

Dule and wae to the order, sent our lads to the border
The English, for aince, by guile wan the day:
The Flowers o' the Forest, that foucht aye the foremost
The pride o' our land, are cauld in the clay.

We hear nae mair lilting at our yowe-milking,
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning
The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede away.

Jean Elliot wrote the lyrics in 1756 as a lament to the deaths of James IV, many of his nobles, and over 10,000 men - the "Flowers of the Forest" - at the Battle of Flodden Field in northern England in 1513.

The pipes versions of the song are used at services of remembrance, funerals, and other occasions; many in the UK know the tune as "The Lament" played at Remembrance Day or Remembrance Sunday ceremonies to remember and honour the war dead.