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From Walter 42nd Highlanders
On board the Candia" bound to India
Y e 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 o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
II. Off hae I roamed by bonnie doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine;.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And my false Lover stole my rose,
But ah! She left the thorn wi' me.
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