This text comes from The Scottish Minstrel (First Series), a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn;
Thou mind'st me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' light some heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
But my fause lover stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.