Ye Banks and Braes or Bonie Doon |
Robert Burns, 1791, 3 versions
Sweet are the banks-the banks o' Doon, The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu' o' care. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true: Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. | 2. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, To see the woodbine twine; And ilka birds sang o' its Luve, And sae did I o' mine: Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Upon its thorny tree; But my fause Luver staw my rose And left the thorn wi' me: Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Upon a morn in June; And sae I flourished on the morn, And sae was pu'd or noon! |
2. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, To see the woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, And sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Upon its thorny tree; But my fause Luver staw my rose, And left the thorn wi' me. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Upon a morn in June; And sae I flourished on the morn, And sae was pu'd or noon. |
2. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie 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 pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver staw my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. |