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Poem by Robert Tannahill The Lass o’ Arranteenie FAR lone 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 naught to me when gaun to thee, Sweet lass o’ Arranteenie. Yon mossy rosebud down the howe, Just opening fresh and bonny, Blinks sweetly ’neath the hazel bough, And ’s scarcely seen by ony; Sae sweet amidst her native hills Obscurely blooms my Jeanie, Mair fair and gay than rosy May, The flower o’ Arranteenie. 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 laurelled favors many; Give me but this, my soul’s first wish, The lass o’ Arranteenie. Robert Tannahill Robert Tannahill's other poems:
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