The Banks of Nith ("To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains")

To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains,Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd,Tho' prest wi' care and sunk in woe,To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.

I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear;For there he rov'd that brake my heart,Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear!