Page:A'body's like to be married but me.pdf/7

 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,

blinks beneath the hazle bough,
 * An's scarcely seen by onie:

sweet, amidst her native hills,
 * Obscurely blooms my Jeanie;

fair an' gay than rosy May,
 * The flow'r o' Arranteenie.

Now, from the mountain's lofty brow,
 * I view the distant ocean;

There guides the bounding prow—
 * Ambition courts promotion.

fortune pour her golden store,
 * Her laurel'd favours many—

me but this my soul's first wish,
 * The lass of Arranteenie.

the mountain and over the moor,
 * Hungry and barefoot I wander forlorn;

father is dead, and my mother is poor,
 * And she grieves for the days that will never return.