The book 'The Scots Fiddle, Tunes, Tales and Traditions' by J. Murray Neil
(an excellent book) lists three versions of the tune and gives the
following account which I summarise:
The earliest copy of this 'old' air has been preserved in lute tablature
in the Skene musical manuscript with the title 'The Flowers of the
Forrest' and which is held in the library of the Advocates Edinburgh (UK).
The ballad along with that which applies to the modern air, commemorates
the Battle of Flodden Field, which was fought on the 9th September 1513.
The Flowers O' the Forest refers to the Scots who came from Ettrick
Forest. Ettrick being an ancient district of Selkirkshire.
The lyric which is applied to this melody was written by Miss Jane (or
Jean) Elliot and was published around 1755. The air is also known as 'The
Liltin' which simple means singing
Both the old and modern airs are played at the Selkirk Common Riding. The
modern air having a march tempo and the old air as a lament after the
casting of the colours.
As
far as I know the composer of the air is unknown and no mention is made of
the air being traditionally played at funerals.
I've hear 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 boughs 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',
'Bout 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 heartless and wae.
Sighin' and moanin' on ilka green loanin',
The flowers of the forest are all wede away.
