Robert Burns - UK

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,

How can ye blume sae fair!

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird

That sings upon the bough;

Thou minds me o' the happy days

When my fause Love was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird

That sings beside thy mate;

For sae I sat, and sae I sang,

And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon

To see the woodbine twine,

And ilka bird sang o' its love;

And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,

Frae aff its thorny tree;

And my fause lover staw the rose,

But left the thorn wi' me.