5
THE LASS IN YON TOWN.
Owat 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 lovelv little flower,
That I wad tent and shelter there.
O sweet is she in yon town,
The sinking sun's gane down upon;
