Thou banks and braes 'o bonnie doon, How can ye bloom so fair? How can ye chant ye little birds, when I see fu' o' care? Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird A seated on the bough. Thou minds me o' departed joy, When my fause love was true. Oft hae I roved by bonnie doon, To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' his love, And sae did I o' mine. With lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Upon its thorny tree, And my fause lover staw my rose, But, ah, he left the thorn wi' me.