Explore "The Banks o' Doon (Third Version)" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.