the banks o' doon—third version
    ye banks and braes o' bonie doon,
    how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
    how can ye chant, ye little birds,
    and i sae weary fu' o' care!
    thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
    that wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
    thou minds me o' departed joys,
    departed never to return.
    aft hae i rov'd by bonie doon,
    to see the rose and woodbine twine:
    and ilka bird sang o' its luve,
    and fondly sae did i o' mine;
    wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
    fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
    and may fause luver staw my rose,
    but ah! he left the thorn wi' me.