The Book of Scottish Song/The leal light heart

The leal light heart.

[John Mitchell.—Here first printed.]

⁠A leal light heart's ne'er sad, my jo,
⁠A leal light heart's ne'er sad, my jo;
⁠The e'e we ken will tell the tale,
⁠Whene'er the heart is sad, my jo.

The miser to his heaps o' gold
⁠Anither heap may add, my jo,
But if the truth be fairly told,
⁠We'll find his heart's aft sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

Content will keep the han's aye free
⁠Frae every thing that's bad, my jo,
While in her bright and smiling e'e
⁠We read her heart's ne'er sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

Pale envy may affect to smile,
⁠And seem like ane that's glad, my jo,
But in her breast she wears the while
⁠A heart that's aye been sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

A lord may own baith rigs and gear,
⁠An' be in ermine clad, my jo;
But mark his e'e for ae short year,
⁠An' say if he's ne'er sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

The truly blythe aroun' his hearth
⁠Will swear ambition's mad, my jo,
An' drown in rosy social mirth,
⁠Whate'er wad mak' him sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

The lass we lo'e, the frien's we prize,
⁠When such are to be had, my jo;
Will lend to life the rainbow dyes,
⁠That flee the heart that's sad, my jo.
⁠A leal light heart, &c.

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