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Translation
Index

Adown Winding Nith

TUNE: The muckin o' Geordy's byre (The cleaning-out of George's cow-shed)

 

 

Burns Original

Standard English Translation

Adown Winding Nith Down

Chorus
Away with your belles and your beauties -
They never with her can compare!
Whoever have met with my Phillis
Has met with the Queen of the Fair!

Down winding river Nith I did wander
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring.
Down winding river Nith I did wander
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.

The Daisy amused my fond fancy,
So artless, so simple, so wild:
' You emblem,' said I, ' of my Phillis ' -
For she is Simplicity's child.

The rose-bud is the blush of my charmer,
Her sweet balmy lip when it is pressed.
How fair and how pure is the lily!
But fairer and purer her breast.

Yonder knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
They never with my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath of the woodbine,
Its dew-drop of diamond her eye.

Her voice is the song of the morning,
That wakes through the green-spreading grove,
When Phebus peeps over the mountains
On music, and pleasure, and love.

But Beauty, how frail and how fleeting!
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While Worth in the mind of my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.

Down the Winding River Nith

Chorus
Away with your belles and your beauties -
They never with her can compare!
Whoever have met with my Phillis
Has met with the Queen of the Fair!

Down winding river Nith I did wander
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring.
Down winding river Nith I did wander
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.

The Daisy amused my fond fancy,
So artless, so simple, so wild:
' You emblem,' said I, ' of my Phillis ' -
For she is Simplicity's child.

The rose-bud is the blush of my charmer,
Her sweet balmy lip when it is pressed.
How fair and how pure is the lily!
But fairer and purer her breast.

Yonder knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
They never with my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath of the woodbine,
Its dew-drop of diamond her eye.

Her voice is the song of the morning,
That wakes through the green-spreading grove,
When Phebus peeps over the mountains
On music, and pleasure, and love.

But Beauty, how frail and how fleeting!
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While Worth in the mind of my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.

 

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