The Banks of Doon
Ye 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 …
Read here for the full poem and the versions.
It’s the Great Scot’s birthday. Robert Burns born January 25, 1759. A poor farmer’s son with little formal education, fell in love, was an idiot when his girlfriend got pregnant but married her later on his own accord. He published his first collection of poems in 1783. Some of you know his work but don’t realize it. At the strike of midnight on the last night of the year you sing or at may hear “For Auld Lang Syne”.