Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume so fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I so full of care?
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough:
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause Love was true!
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate:
For so I sat, and so I sang,
And wist na o' my fate!
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And so did I o' mine.
With lightsome heart I pulled a rose
Free off its thorny tree,
And my fause lover staw my
rose,
But
left the thorn with' me.
No comments:
Post a Comment