Page:Lass o' Arranteinie.pdf/2

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THE LASS O' ARRANTEINIE.

Forlorn amang the Highland hills,
'Midst nature's wildest grandeur,
By rocky dens and woody glens,
With weary steps I wander;
The langsome way, the darksome day,
The mountain mist sae rainy;
Are nought to me, when gaun to thee,
Sweet lass o' Arranteinie.

Yon mossy rose buds down the howe,
Just op'ning fresh and bonny,
Blinks sweetly 'neath the hazle-bough,
An's scarcely seen by ony;
Sae sweet, amidst her native hills,
Obscurely blooms my Jeany,
Mair fair and gay than rosy May,
The flower o' Arranteinie.

Now from the mountain's lofty brow,
I view the distant ocean;
There Avarice guides the bounding prow,
Ambition courts promotion.
Let Fortune pour her golden store,
Her laurel'd favours many;
Gi'e me but this, my soul's first wish,
The Lass o' Arranteinie.