the banks o' doon—third version
  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.