Page:Cream of Scottish song (2).pdf/3

 Banks of Doon.

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon, how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, and I sae weary, fu’ o’ care! Thoul’t break my heart thou warbling bird, that wantons thro’ the flow’ring thorn. Thou minds me o’ departed joys, departed never to return.

Oft hae I roved by bonny Doon, to see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o’ its love, and foundly sae did I o' mine, Wi’ lightsome heart I pn’d a rose, fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause lover stole my rose, but ah ! he left thorn wi’ me.

Green grow the Rashes, O.

Green grow the rashes O! green grow the rashes, O! The sweetest hours that e’er I spend, are spent amang the lasses, O!

There’s nought but caro on every han’, in ev’ry hour that passes, O; What signifies the life o’ man, and ’twere na for the lasses, O, Green grow, Sec.