There grew in bonnie Scotland, a thistle and a brier,
And aye they twined and clasped, like sisters kind and dear;
The rose it was sae bonnie, it could ilk bosom charm;
The thistle spread its thorny leaves, to keep the rose frae harm.

A bonnie laddie tended the rose baith aire and late,
He water’d it, he fann’d it, he wove it wi’ his fate;
And the leal hearts of Scotland pray’d it might never fa’,
The thistle was sae bonnie green, the rose sae like the snaw.

But the weird sisters sat where hope’s fair emblem grew,
They drapt a drap upon the rose o’ bitter blasting dew;
And aye they twin’d the mystic thread, but ere their task was done,
The snaw-white rose it disappear’d, it wither’d in the sun.

A bonnie laddie tended the rose baith aire and late,
He water’d it, he fann’d it, and wove it wi’ his fate;
But the thistle-tap it wither’d, winds bore it far awa’,
And Scotland’s heart was broken for the rose sae like the snaw.