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　　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. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns