There’s neither cauld nor care, Jean;
The day is aye fair
In the land o’ the leal.
Our bonnie bairn’s there, Jean;
She was baith gude and fair, Jean;
And oh! we grudged her sair
To the land o’ the leal.
But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, Jean;
And joy’s a-comin’ fast, Jean,
The joy that’s aye to last