When bonny daisies spread the sward,
An' broom bloom'd fair to see;
Blythe Davie, wi' a heart sae light,
An' she, a maiden free,
Cries, 'Down the bonny burn side,
And I will follow thee.'

Where gracefu' birks hang drooping o'er
The deep pool's waveless side;
And shaded frae the simmer sun,
The wand'rin' salmon hide.

An' where the little trouties play,
An' shine sae bonnilie,
'Gang down the burn,' cries Davie, blythe,
'And I will follow thee.'