Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary’s awake, she’s all ready to sing, It’s the dawn that I love, and the flowers of spring.

The tired weaver in silence has wove her fine thread; The cattle have neighed to their owner for feed; But give me my sweetheart, where e’er I may roam, In the blushing of roses, we’ll make our way home.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise. And as long as your waters flow free before me, I’ll ever remember my love’s face so fair.

• Robert Burns