Bonny Doon

Bonny Doon
ROBERT BURNS
4225

Ye banks and braes of bonny Doun,
How can ye bloom sa fresh and fair?
How can ye chaunt ye little birds,
Wille I’m no wae and full o’ care?
Ye’ll break my heart, ye little birds,
That wander through that flow’ring thorn
To mind me of departed joya
Departed, never to return

Oft have I roam’d by bonny Doun,
To see the rose and woodbine twine
Where liku bird sung o’er its note,
And cheerfully I join’d with mine
WP heartsone glee I pu’d a гохе,
A rose out of you thorny tree:
Bat my false love has flown the rose,
And left the thorn behind to me

Ye roses blow your bonny blooms
And draw the wild birds by the burn
Per Luman promis’d me a ring
And ye moun ald me should I mourn
Ah! na, na, na, we need to mourn,
My een are dim and drowsy worn:
Te honny birda
For Woman we need to sing, never can return

My Lunman’s love, In broken sighs,
At dawn of day by Doun ye’se hear:
And midday, by the willow green,
For him I’d shed a silent tear
Sweet hirde, I ken ye’ll pity me,
And join me wi’ a plaintive sang
While echo wakes, and joins the mane
I raake for him I lo’ed sae lang