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Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon |
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How can ye bloom so fresh and fair? |
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How can ye chant ye little birds |
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While I sae weary, fu' o' care? |
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Oh ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds |
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That wanton o'er the flowerin' thorn |
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Ye mind me o' departed joys |
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Departed never to return |
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Oft hae I been by bonnie Doon, |
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To see the rose and woodbine twine |
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And ilka bird sang o' all its joy |
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And fondly so did I wi mine |
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Wi' lithsome heart I pulled a rose |
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Full sweet upon its flowerin' tree |
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And my false lover he stole my rose |
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But ah! he left the thorn wi' me |
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Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon |
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How can ye bloom so fresh and fair? |
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How can ye chant ye little birds |
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While I sae weary, fu' o' care? |
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Oh ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds |
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That wanton o'er the flowerin' thorn |
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Ye mind me o' departed joys |
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Departed never to return |
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Ye mind me o' departed joys |
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Departed never to return |
