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the banks o' doon—third version
ye banks and braes o' bonie doon,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i sae weary fu' o' care!
thou'll 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 rov'd by bonie 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 may fause luver staw my rose,
but ah! he left the thorn wi' me.