The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Banks of Doon
For other versions of this work, see The Banks O' Doon.
THE BANKS OF DOON.
Ye banks and braes of bonny Doon,how can you bloom so fresh and fair,How can your blue stream row so clear,when I'm so wearyfu' o' care? Ye'll break my heart. ye little birds,that wanton on yon flow'ry thorn;Ye mind me of departed joys,departed never to return.
Aft have I roam'd by bonny Doon,to see the rose and Woodbine twine,Whar ilka bird sang of it's love,and sae did wi' glee of mine.Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,the sweetest on it's thorny tree.But my false love has stown the rose,and oh! he's left the thorn wi' me.