Sweet are the banks-the banks o’ Doon,
The spreading flowers are fair,
And everything is blythe and glad,
But I am fu’o’ care.
Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o’ the happy days
When my fause Luvewas true:
Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist nao’ my fate.

AfthaeI rov’d bybonieDoon,
To see the woodbine twine;
And ilka birds sang o’ its Luve,
And sae did I o’mine:
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Upon its thorny tree;
Butmy fauseLuver stawmy rose
And left the thorn wi’ me:
Wi’lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Upon a morn in June;
And sae I flourished on the morn,
And saewas pu’d ornoon!