How blythe ilk morn was I to see
My swain come o'er the hill!
He skipt the burn, and flew to me,
I met him with good will.
   O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
   The broom of Cowdenknows;
   I wish I were with my dear swain,
   At hame to tend the ewes.

I wanted neither yowe nor lamb,
While his flock near me lay;
He gather'd in my sheep at night,
And cheer'd me a' the day.
   O the broom, etc.

He tun'd his pipe and reed sae sweet,
The birds stood list'ning by;
Ev'n the dull cattle stood and gaz'd,
Charm'd with his melody.
   O the broom, etc.

While thus we spent our time, by turns,
Betwixt our flocks and play,
I envied not the fairest dame,
Though e'er so rich or gay.
   O the broom, etc.

Hard fate that I should banish'd be,
Gang heavily, and mourn,
Because I loved the kindest swain
That ever yet was born.
   O the broom, etc.

He did oblige me every hour;
Could I but faithful be?
He stawe my heart; could I refuse
Whate'er he ask'd of me?
   O the broom, etc.

My doggie, and my little kit
That held my wee soup whey,
My plaidie, brooch, and crookit stick,
May now lie useless by.
   O the broom, etc.

Adieu, ye Cowdenknows, adieu!
Farewell a' pleasures there!
Ye gods, restore me to my swain,
Is a'  I crave or care!
   O the broom, etc.