flow gently, sweet Afton among thy green braes
flow gently, i'll sing thee a song in thy praise
my Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream
flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream
thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen
you wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den
thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear
i charge you disturb not my slumbering fair
i chance upon these words again and am wondrously swept into rolling green fields and braes and echoing glens and waiting to be picked up at my piano teacher's home. redintegration is real.
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