Songs We Like to Sing

Published 1912 Flow Gently, Sweet Afton Robert Burns

J. E. Spilman

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.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, they screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, they neighboring 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 gath'ring sweet fow'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.