O, Wat Ye Wha's In Yon Town

Chorus
O, wat ye wha's in yon town
Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
The dearest maid's in yon town
That e'enin sun is shining on!
1.
Now haply down yon gay green shaw
She wanders by yon spreading tree.
How blest ye flowers that round her blaw!
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e.
2.
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the Spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear!
3.
The sun blinks blythe in yon town,
Among the broomy braes sae green;
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.
4.
Without my Love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!
5.
My cave wad be a lover's bower,
Tho' raging Winter rent the air,
And she a lovely little flower,
That I wad tent and shelter there.
6.
O, sweet is she in yon town
The sinkin sun's gane down upon!
A fairer than's in yon town
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
7.
If angry Fate be sworn my foe,
And suff'ring I am doom'd to bear,
I'd careless quit aught else below,
But spare, O, spare me Jeanie dear!
8.
For, while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she, as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.

O, Know You Who Is In Yonder Town

Chorus
O, know you who is in yonder town
You see the evening sun upon?
The dearest maid is in yonder town
That evening sun is shining on!

Now happily down yonder gay green woods
She wanders by yonder spreading tree.
How blessed you flowers that round her blow!
You catch the glances of her eyes.

How blessed you birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the Spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear!

The sun shines blythe in yonder town,
Among the broom covered hillsides so green;
But my delight in yonder town,
And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.

Without my Love, not all the charms
Of Paradise could yield me joy;
But give me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!

My cave would be a lover's bower,
Though raging Winter rent the air,
And she a lovely little flower,
That I would tend and shelter there.

O, sweet is she in yonder town
The sinking sun has gone down upon!
A fairer than is in yonder town
His setting beam never shone upon.

If angry Fate be sworn my foe,
And suffering I am doomed to bear,
I would careless quit anything else below,
But spare, O, spare me Jeanie dear!

For, while life's dearest blood is warm,
One thought from her shall never depart,
And she, as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.