Classic Poem

I SING the bonny banks o' Fleet,
Where Nature spreads her various treasure;
Frae fruits and flow'r of ev'ry hue,
To berries blae, and craps o' heather.
Thy peebl'd shores and sea-girt isles,
Thy far-fam'd woods and views sae mony;
Thy hills and tow'rs where simmer smiles,
Thy strappin' lads and lasses bonny.

Thy winding banks and flow'ry dells,
With bloomin' fields around in order;
Where commerce spreads her flowin' sails,
Auld Card'ness tow'rs o'erlook thy border.
Upon thy banks a borough stands,
Sae feat an' healthy few's completer;
If search thro' Scotia's southern strands,
Nane's shield'd sae biel' nor shaws aught sweeter.

Carstramon waves his leafy locks,
Amidst the meads where flow'rs are springing;
And shields wi' woods his furrowed rocks,
Where lightsome birds are blythly singing.
The Ruscoe ruins, nodding gray,
Where Gordons gay ance blythely ranted;
And wild woods spreading o'er the brae,
By nature's ruleless han'd been planted.

At distance Cairnsmuir rears his form,
The hoary snaw his haffets wrappin';
His dark brows brave the wintry storm —
A blue-mist bonnet covers his tappin'.
Fain would I sing each noble name,
Where kindness blends wi' wealth her traces;
But deeds surpass the poet's pen,
As native smiles do borrowed graces.

Farewell ye bonny banks o' Fleet,
Where nature spreads out a' her treasure;
Frae fruits an' flow'rs o' very hue,
To berries blae, and craps o' heather.