The Banks Of Bonnie Doon

by Robert Burns

Yon banks and hills of bonnie Doon,

How can you bloom so fresh and fair?

And little birds, how can you chaunt

With me so weary... full o' care?

You'll break my heart, you warbling birds

That wanton thru the flow'ry thorns

You remind me of departed joys

Departed... never to return.

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon

To see the rose and woodbine twine

And every bird sang of its love

As fondly once I sang of mine.

With lightsome heart I pulled a rose

Full sweet from off its thorny tree

But my first lover stole that rose

And, ah! has left its thorns with me.