Robert Burns, 1795
O bonie was yon rosy brier,|
That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man;
And bonie she, and ah, how dear!
It shaded frae the e'enin sun.
2. Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
3. All in its rude and prickly bower,|
That crimson rose, how sweet and fair;
But love is far a sweeter flower,
Amid life's thorny path o' care.
4. The pathless, wild and wimpling burn,
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