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II. LOVE : GENERAL 113
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : Thou minds me o1 departed joys,
Departed never to return !
Aft hae I roved by bonie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine ; Wi1 lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree! And my fause luver staw my roseó
But ah ! he left the thorn wi' me.
No. 124. O, stay, sweet warbling wood lark, stay.
Tune : Whare shall our gudeman lie (see No. 10).
O, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray! A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining. Again, again that tender part, That I may catch thy melting art ! For surely that wad touch her heart
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind ?
O, nocht but love and sorrow join'd
Sic notes o' woe could wauken 1 Thou tells o' never-ending care, O' speechless grief and dark despairó For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair,
Or my poor heart is broken ! 1