the flowery banks of cree

here is the glen, and here the bower

all underneath the birchen shade;

the vil-bell has told the hour,

o what can stay y lovely aid?

&039;tis not aria&039;s whisperg call;

&039;tis but the baly breathg gale,

ixt with warbler&039;s dyg fall,

the dewy star of eve to hail

it is aria&039;s voice i hear;

calls the woodrk the grove,

his little, faithful ate to cheer;

at once &039;tis ic and &039;tis love

and art thou e! and art thou true!

o wele dear to love and !

and let all our vows renew,

along the flowery banks of cree