|: Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea! :|
Near thee I pass'd life's early day,
And won my Mary's heart in thee.
The broom, the brier, the birken bush,
2. Far ben thy dark green planting's shade,
3. Awa', ye thoughtless, murd'ring gang,|
Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee !
They'll sing you yet a canty sang,
Then, O in pity let them be!
4. When Winter blaws in sleety show'rs
5. Though fate should drag me south the line,
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