The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
28
YE FLOWERY BANKS
I
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care?
II
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!
III
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!
IV
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie DoonTo see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And sae did I o' mine.
29
V
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a roseFrae aff its thorny tree,
And my fause luver staw my rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||