Monday, 19 November 2007

Ye Banks and Braes

Ye Banks and Braes

Ye banks and braes o' Bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care?
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds,
That wanton through the flow'ry thorn,
Ye mind me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

Aft hae I rov'd by Bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And my fause luver staw my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

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