Row, burnie, row
Through the bracken glen;
Row, burnie, row
By the haunts of men;
Where the golden cowslips glint,
Through the wild thyme and the mint,
By the barley and the lint, -
Row, burnie, row.

Row, burnie, row,
Tinkling under heather bells;
Row, burnie, row
Down to where my true love dwells; -
Singing songs down to the sea,
Singing of the hill countrie,
Singing to my love from me,
Row, burnie, row.

Row, burnie, row
To him that's far awa',
Row, burnie, row,
And mind him o' us a'.
Say there's naething I regret,
Say I never can forget,
Say I love him dearly yet:
Row, burnie, row.

Row, burnie, row
Through the gowans white,
Row, burnie, row,
Gleaming in the light:
Let ilka ripple bear
Fond kisses to him there;
O my heart it's longing sair, -
Row, burnie, row.