| lyric | 1. Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How canye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu’ o’ care?
Ye’ll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
That wandered thro’ the flow’ry thorn,
Thou minds me o’ dparted joys,
Depart ed never to return.
2. Aft ha’e I rov’d by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang 0’ its love,
And fondly sae did I o’ mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Fro’ sweeter bonnie thorny tree,
But my fause lover stole the rose,
And oh! he left the thorn wi’ me. |