This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Yon wand'ring rill, that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir:
Slides by a bower where monie a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir.
There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay:
To love they thought nae crime, Sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.