The Banks O' Doon-First Version

      Sweet are the banks-the banks o' Doon,      The spreading flowers are fair,      And everything is blythe and glad,      But I am fu' o' care.      Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie 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 bonie bird,      That sings beside thy mate;      For sae I sat, and sae I sang,      And wist na o' my fate.       Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,      To see the woodbine twine;      And ilka birds sang o' its Luve,      And sae did I o' mine:      Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,      Upon its thorny tree;      But my fause Luver staw my rose      And left the thorn wi' me:      Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,      Upon a morn in June;      And sae I flourished on the morn,      And sae was pu'd or noon!