"Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braesFlow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praiseMy Mary's asleep by thy murmuring streamFlow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream
Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glenYe wild whistly blackbirds in yon thorny denThou green crested lapwing, thy screaming forbearI charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair
Oh, how lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills There daily I wander as noon rises high, oooh My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow There oft, as mild evening sweeps over the lea The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides And winds by the cot where my Mary resides How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream So flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dreams.)
-Robert Burns
(Photo is the path Robert Burns walked by the Afton River)
