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Ye Flowery Banks

Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae 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 false love was true.
 
Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o’ my fate.
 
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the wood—bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o’ its luve,
And sae did I o’ mine.
 
Wi’ lightsome heart I pulled a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my false luver stole my rose
But left the thorn wi’ me.
Otras obras de Robert Burns ...



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