My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/Ye Banks and Braes
For other versions of this work, see The Banks O' Doon.
the banks o' doon.
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.
Ye'll break my heart, ye little birds,
That wanton thro' the flow'ry thorn;
Ye mind me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I roam'd by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
Whar ilka bird sang o‘ its love,
And fondly sae did I o’ mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu‘ sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause love has stown the rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
finis.