Burns' Popular Songs/The Banks o' Doon

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The Banks o' Doon.

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon,How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;How can ye chant, ye little birds,And I sae weary fu' o' care!Thou'lt break my heart; thou warbling bird,That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:Thou minds me o' departed joys.Departed—never to return!
Aft hae I roved 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 stole my rose,But, ah! he left the thorn to me.

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