Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, <br />How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? <br />How can ye chant, ye little birds, <br />And I sae weary fu' o' care! <br />Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, <br />That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: <br />Thou minds me o' departed joys, <br />Departed never to return. <br /> <br />Aft I rov'd by Bonie Doon, <br />To see the rose and woodbine twine: <br />And ilka bird sang o' its luve, <br />And fondly sae did I o' mine. <br />Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, <br />Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree! <br />Any my fause luver staw my rose, <br />But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/banks-o-doon-the/
