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1 Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom so fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, full of care!
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird
That wantons through the flowery thorn;
Thou mind’st me of departed joys,
Departed, never to return.
2 Oft have I rov’d by bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang of its love,
And fondly sae did I of mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pulled a rose
Full sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause lover stole my rose,
But Ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
English text