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(81)
brightly fa' the mornin' rays
Upon the leaves o' June,
An' sweetly warbles in the wud
The linty's evenin' tune ;
But brighter far the kincUy glance
0' Maiy at my side ;
An' sweeter far her voice to me,
Upon the banks o' Clyde.
Let Fortune frown upon my lot,
Or a' her gifts bestow,
She ne'er can change the constant flame
That burns thro' weal an' woe.
Then wheresoe'er my steps be led,
An' whatsoe'er betide,
This faithfu' heart will linger lang
Upon the banks o' Clyde.

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