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Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair
How can ye chant, ye little bird
And I sae weary, fu' o' care
Y'll break my he'rt, y' warbling bird
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn
Ye minds me o' departed joys
Departed, never to return
Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie 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
But my fause Lover stole my rose
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair
How can ye chant, ye little bird
And I sae weary, fu' o' care
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