10
Now wo maun totter down, John,
but hand in hand we ’ll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot
John Anderson, my jo.
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
Now simmer blinks on flow’ry braes,
and o’er the crystal streamlet plays.
Come let us spend the lightsome days,
In the birks of Aberfeldy
Bonnie lassie will ye go,
will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie will ye go,
to the birks of Aberfeldy,
While o’er their heads the hazels hing,
the little birdies blithely sing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.
The braes ascend like lofty wa’s,
the foaming stream deep roaring fa's,
O’erhung wi’ fragrant spreading shaws.
The birks of Aberfeldy.
The hoary cliffs are crown’d wi’ flowers,
white o’er the linns the burnie pours.
And rising weets wi' misty showers
birks of Aberfeldy.
Let Fortune’s gifts at random flee,
They ne’er shall draw a wish from me
mely blest wi’ love and thee,
Aberfeldy.
