A'body's like to be married but me/The lass o' Arranteenie
THE LASS O' ARRANTEENIE.
Far lone amang the Highland hills,
Midst Nature's wildest grandeur,
By rocky dens, and woody glens,
With weary steps I wander.
The langsome way, the darksome day;
The mountain-mist sae rainy,
Are nought to me when gaun to thee,
Sweet lass o' Arranteenie!
Yon mossy rose-bud down the howe,
Just op'ning fresh and bonnie,
⟨It⟩ blinks beneath the hazle bough,
An's scarcely seen by onie:
⟨Sae⟩ sweet, amidst her native hills,
Obscurely blooms my Jeanie;
⟨Mair⟩ fair an' gay than rosy May,
The flow'r o' Arranteenie.
Now, from the mountain's lofty brow,
I view the distant ocean;
There ⟨avarice⟩ guides the bounding prow—
Ambition courts promotion.
⟨Let⟩ fortune pour her golden store,
Her laurel'd favours many—
⟨Give⟩ me but this my soul's first wish,
The lass of Arranteenie.