Poem by Robert Burns

The Banks Of Nith

To thee, lov’d Nith, thy gladsome plains,
  Where late wi’ careless thought I rang’d,
Though prest wi’ care and sunk in woe,
  To thee I bring a heart unchang’d.

I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
  Tho’ mem’ry there my bosom tear;
For there he rov’d that brake my heart,
  Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear!

1. There’s News, Lasses
2. Scroggam
3. There’s a Youth in This City
4. The Toast
5. Lines Written at Loudon Manse

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