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This is the poem
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Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,|
How can ye bloom so fresh and fair?
How can ye chant ye little birds
While I sae weary, fu' o' care?
Oh ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds
That wanton o'er the flowerin' thorn.
Ye mind me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I been by bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' all its love,
And fondly so did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pulled a rose
Full sweet upon its thorny tree,
And my false lover stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
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