but give me jeanie in my arms

and welcome lapland's dreary sky!

o wat ye wha's, c.

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.

o wat ye wha's, c.

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.

o wat ye wha's, c.

if angry fate is sworn my foe,

and suff'ring i am doom'd to bear;

i careless quit aught else below,

but spare, o spare me jeanie dear.

o wat ye wha's, c.

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 wat ye wha's, c.