Ye banks and braes, Skye boat song, My love is like a red, red rose on the viola. Monica Cuneo Viola

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Three famous Scottish folk songs: Ye banks and braes, Skye boat song, My love is like a red red rose. Monica Cuneo, Viola.
Ye banks and braes https://youtu.be/6tgioT1dKcU
Skye boat song https://youtu.be/6tgioT1dKcU?t=133
My love is like a red red rose https://youtu.be/6tgioT1dKcU?t=285
The Banks O' Doon, Robert Burns, 1791
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine;
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And may fause Luver staw my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

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"The Skye Boat Song" is a late 19th-century Scottish song recalling the journey of Prince Charles Edward Stuart from Benbecula to the Isle of Skye as he evaded capture by government troops after his defeat at the Battle of Culloden in 1746. Sir Harold Boulton, 2nd Baronet composed the lyrics to an air collected by Anne Campbelle MacLeod in the 1870s.

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Loud the winds howl loud the waves roar
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled our foes stand on the shore
Follow they will not dare

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Billow and breeze islands and seas
Mountains of rain and sun
All that was good all that was fair
All that was ours is gone

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Burned are our homes exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
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A Red, Red Rose, Robert Burns, 1794
O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!