The Banks o’ Doon

Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu’ o’ care.

Thou’lt break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o’ the happy days,
When my fause luve was true.

Thou’lt break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o’ my fate.

Aft hae I rov’d by bonie Doon,
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o’ its love,
And sae did I o’ mine.

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose
Frae off its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi’ me.

R. Burns.