Ye banks and braes of Bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom so fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds
And I'm sae weary, fu' of care
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds
That wanton through the flowering thorn
Ye mind me of departed joys
Departed, never to return
Oft I have roved by Bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine
And ilka bird sang of its love
And fondly so did I of mine
With lightsome heart I put a rose
Full sweet upon this thorny tree
But my false lover stole my rose
And ah, he left the thorn with me

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS