When trees did bud, and fields were green,
And broom bloom'd fair to see;
When Mary was complete fifteen,
And love laughed in her eye;
Blythe Davie's blinks her heart did move
To speak her mind thus free,
"Gang down the burn, Davie, love,
"And I shall follow thee"

Now Davie did each lad surpass
That dwelt on this burn side,
And Mary was the boniest lass,
Just meet to be a bride;
Her cheeks were rosie, red and white,
Her een were bonie blue;
Her looks were like Aurora bright,
Her lips like dropping dew.

As down the burn they took their way,
And through the flow'ry dale,
His cheek to her's he aft did lay,
And love was ay the tale:
With, "Mary, when shall we return
"Sic pleasure to renew?"
Quoth Mary," Love, I like the burn,
"And ay shall follow you."