No.118

Ye Banks and Braes 

Robert Burns 1759-96

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie 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 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!

And my fause luver stole my rose -

But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

-o0o-