Banks of Doun

Oft have I roam’d by bonny Doun. To see the rose and woodbine twine, Where ilka bird sung o’er its note, And cheerfully I join’d wi’ mine.

Wi’ heartsome glee I pu’d a rose, A rose out o’ yon thorny tree; But my fause love has stown the rose, And left the thorn behind to me.

Ye roses blaw your bonny blooms, And draw the wild birds to thy burn; For Lumen promis’d me a ring, And ye maun aid me should I mourn.

Ah! na, na, na, ye needna mourn, My een are dim and drowsy worn; Ye bonny birds ye needna sing, For Luman never can return.

My Luman’s love, in broken sighs, At dawn of day by Doun ye’se hear, And mid-day, by the willow green, For him I’ll shed a silent tear.

Sweet birds, I ken ye’ll pity me, And join me wi’ a plantive sang, While echo wakes, and joins the mane I mak for him I lo’ed sae lang.