“Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon,
How can ye blumesae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae 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 bird 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.”