the banks o' doon—first version
sweet are the banks—the banks o' doon,
the spreading flowers are fair,
and everything is blythe and glad,
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.