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 Let fortune pour her golden store,

Her laurel’d favours many,

Give me bntbut [sic] this, my soul’s first wish,

The lass o’ Arranteenie.

What equals on earth the delight of the huntsman

For whom does life’s cup more enchantingly flow?

To follow the stag thro’ the forest and meadows,

When brightly the beams of the morning first glow.

''Oh! this is a pleasure that's worthy of princes,''

And health in its wanderings can ever be found.

When echoing caverns and forests surround us,

More bythely the pledge of the goblet will sound.

Hark, follow, &c.

The light of Diana illumines our forests,

The shades where in summer we often retreat,

Nor is then the fell wolf in his covert securest,

The boar from his lair is laid at our feet.

O! this is a pleasure, &c.

I’ve come across the sea,

I’ve braved every danger,

For a brother dear to me,

From Swiss-land a stranger;

Then pity, assist, and protect a poor stranger,

And buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.

A little toy, a little toy;

Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.

Come round me, ladies air

I’ve ribbands and laces

I’ve trinkets rich and rare

To add to the graces

Of waist, neck, or arm, or your sweet pretty faces

Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.

A little toy, a little toy;

Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.