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Awa, ye thoughtless murd'ring gang, Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee!They'll sing you yet a canty sang,Then O in pity let them be!Thou bonnie, &c.
When winter blaws in sleety show'rs,Frae aff the norlin' hills sae hie,He lightly skiffs thy bonny bow'rs,As laith to harm a flow'r in thee.Thou bonnie, &c.
Tho' fate should drag me south the line,Or o'er the wide Atlantic sea,The happy hours I'll ever mind,That I in youth ha'e spent in thee,Thou bonnie, &c.
FINIS.
