And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae off its thorny tree:
But my fause luver staw my rose, [stole]
And left the thorn wi' me.


(Third Version)

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care?
Thou'lt 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 bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause lover staw my rose, [stole]
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.


SIMMER'S A PLEASANT TIME