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11 But my delight in yon town, And pleasure, is my Jean.

Without my love, not a the charms Of paradise could yield me joy; But gie me Jeanie to my arms, And welcome Lapland's drearie sky. My cave would 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 gaun down upon The dearest maid's in yon town, His setting beams e’er shone upon. If angry file be sworn my foe, And suff’ring I am doomed to bear, I'll careless quit all else below; But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear.

For while life's dearest blood is warm, My thought's frae her shall ne'er depart; For as inost lovely is her form, She has the truest, kindest heart.

Auld Eddic Ochiltree. Auld Eddie Ochiltree, Auld Eddie Ochiltree, He's come a-courting me, Auld Eddie Ochiltree,