This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains,
Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd,
Tho' prest wi' care and sunk in woe,
To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.
I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear;
For there he rov'd that brake my heart,
Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear!