Lovely Jean (1)/The lass in yon town

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THE LASS IN YON TOWN.

O wat ye wha's in yon town,
⁠Ye see the e'ening sun upon?
The dearest maid's in yon town,
⁠His setting beams e'er shone upon.
Now haply down yon gay green shaw,
⁠She wanders by yon spreading tree;
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
⁠Ye catch the glances o' her ee.
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
⁠And welcome in the blooming year;
But doubly welcome is the spring,
⁠The season to my Jeanie dear.

The sun blinks blythe on yon town,
⁠Amang the broomy braes sae green;
But my delights in yon town,
⁠And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.
Without my fair, not a' the charms
⁠O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
⁠And welcome Lapland's dreary sky
My cave wad be a lover's bower,
⁠Tho' raging winter rent the air;
And she a lovely little flower,
⁠That I wad tent and shelter there.

O sweet is she in yon town,
⁠The sinking sun's gane down upon;
The dearest maid's in yon town,
⁠His setting beam e'er shone upon;
If angry fate is sworn my foe,
⁠And suffering I am doom'd to bear,
I’d careless quit ought else below,
⁠But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear.
For while life’s dearest blood runs warm,
⁠My thoughts frae her shall ne'er depart,
For as she's lovely in her form.
⁠She has the truest, kindest heart.