the banks o' doon—first version

sweet are the banks—the banks o' doon,

the spreading flowers are fair,

and everything is blythe and d,

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.