Ye banks and braes

   C         G        C      F    
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
C          F         G         G7
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
    C      G      C         F        
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
    C     F      G      C
And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
        C        C      C             C
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
     C       Am        G         G
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: 
     C     G     C        F
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
C    F      G          C
Departed -- never to return!


Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie 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 my fause luver stole my rose,
But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.