Robert Burns


Ye Banks and Braes


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?
Thoult break my heart, thou warbling bird,
  That wantons thro the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o departed joys,
  Departed never to return.

Aft has I rovd by bonnie Doon,
  To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o its love,
  And fondly sae did I o mine.
Wi lightsome heart I pud a rose,
  Fu sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause lover stole my rose,
  But ah! he left the thorn wi me.

        (EARLIER VERSION.)

YE flowery banks o bonnie Doon,
  How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
  And I sae fu o care?

Thoull break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
  That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o the happy days,
  When my fause luve was true.

Thoull break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
  That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
  And wist na o my fate.

Aft has I rovd by bonnie Doon,
  To see the wood-bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o its love,
  And sae did I o mine.

Wi lightsome heart I pud a rose
  Frae off its thorny tree:
But my fause luver staw my rose,
  And left the thorn wi me.

Wi lightsome heart I pud a rose
  Upon a morn in June;
And sae I flourishd on the morn,
  And sae was pud ere noon.




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