For other versions of this work, see Wat ye wha's in yon Town.
Wat ye wha’s in yon Town.
By Burns.
O wat ye wha’s in yon town,
Ye see the e’ening sun upon?
The dearest maid’s in yon town,
That e’ening sun is shining on.
Ye see the e’ening sun upon?
The dearest maid’s in yon town,
That e’ening sun is shining on.
Now hap’ly down yon gay green shaw,
She wanders by yon spreading tree,
How blest ye flow’rs that round her blaw!
Ye catch the glances o’ her e’ee.
She wanders by yon spreading tree,
How blest ye flow’rs that round her blaw!
Ye catch the glances o’ her e’ee.
How blest ye birds that round her sing
And wanton in the blooming year:
But doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear.
And wanton in the blooming year:
But doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear.
The sun blinks blyth on yon town,
Amang the broomy braes sae green;
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest pleasure is my Jean.
Amang the broomy braes sae green;
But my delight 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.
O’ Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland’s dreary sky.
My cave would be a lover’s bower,
Though ragkig winter rent the air,
And she a lovely little flower,
That I would tent and shelter there.
Though ragkig winter rent the air,
And she a lovely little flower,
That I would tent and shelter there.
O sweet is she in yon town
The sinking sun’s gaun clown upon;
The dearest maid’s in yon town
His setting beam e’er shone upon.
The sinking sun’s gaun clown upon;
The dearest maid’s in yon town
His setting beam e’er shone upon.
If angry fate be sworn my foe,
And suff’ring I am doom'd to bear,
I’d careless quit ought else below,
But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear.
And suff’ring I am doom'd to bear,
I’d careless quit ought else below,
But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear.
For while life’s dearest blood runs warm.
My thoughts frae her shall ne’er depart
For as most lovely is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.
My thoughts frae her shall ne’er depart
For as most lovely is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.
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