![]() How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,Īs gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave.įlow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays Įvery year on January 25, Scots (and those who have plaid hearts), come together to celebrate the life and literary works of Scotland’s beloved poet, Robert Burns. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,Īnd winds by the cot where my Mary resides, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. There oft, as mild Ev’ning sweeps over the lea, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in my eye. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,įar mark’d with the courses of clear winding rills I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. ![]() Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, ![]() Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, ![]() ![]() Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro’ the glen, My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,įlow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,įlow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise ![]()
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