Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Though stock-dove whose echo resounds from the hill
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny dell
Thou green created lapwing, thy screaming for bear
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills
Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills
There daily I wander, as morn rises high
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow
There oft, as mild evening creeps over the lea
The sweet scented birk shades my Mary and me.
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Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave
As gathering sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes
Flow gently , sweet river, the theme of my lays
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
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