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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.

Robert Burns

CXXXIX. “Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon”

YE banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,

How can ye bloom sae fair?

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae fu’ o’ care?

Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird

That sings upon the bough;

Thou minds me o’ the happy days

When my fause Luve 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 woodbine twine:

And ilka bird sang o’ its Luve,

And sae did I o’ mine.

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,

Frae aff its thorny tree;

And my fause Luver staw the rose

But left the thorn wi’ me.