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The little birdies blythely sing, While o'er their heads the hazels hing, Or lightly flit on wanton wing,
 * In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's, O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
 * The birks of Aberfeldy.

The hoary cliffs are erown'd wi' flowers, White o'er the linns the burnie pours, And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
 * The birks of Aberfeldy.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish free me, Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
 * In the birks of Aberfeldy.

O weel may the boatie row,
 * And better may she speed,

And liesome may the boatie row,
 * That wins the bairns' bread.

The boatie rows, the boatie rows,
 * The boatie rows indeed;

And weel may the boatie row,
 * That wins my bairns' bread.