Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise. My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Though stock-dove whose echo resounds from the hill, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny dell, Thou green created lapwing, thy screaming fore-bear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills. There daily I wander, as morn rises high, 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 creeps 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 flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently , sweet river, the theme of my lays. My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
