The wee birdies sing and the wildflowers spring, And in sunshine the waters are sleeping. But the broken heart it kens, nae second spring again, Though the woeful may cease from their grieving.
You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road, And I'll be in Scotland afore you. Where me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.