sweet afton
flow gently, sweet afton! amang thy green braes,
flow gently, i'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
my mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
flow gently, sweet afton, disturb not her dream.
thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
i charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair.
how lofty, sweet afton, thy neighbouring hills,
far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
there daily i wander as noon rises high,
my flocks and my mary's sweet cot in my eye.