O wat ye wha's in yonder town,
Ye see the ev'ning sun upon?
The fairest maid's in yonder town
That ev'ning sun is shining on.

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 of her e'e!

How blest, ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Lucy dear!

The sun blinks blythe on yonder town,
And on yon bonie braes of Ayr;
But my delight in yonder town,
And dearest joy, is Lucy fair.

Without my Love, not a' the charms
Of Paradise could yield me joy;
But gi'e me Lucy in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!

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

O, sweet is she in yonder town
Yon sinking sun's gane down upon !
A fairer than's in yonder town
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.

If angry fate is sworn my foe,
And suffering I am doom'd to bear,
I, careless, quit aught else below,
But spare me, spare me, Lucy dear!

And while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
For she, as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.