'Ithout an honest heart, John.
An ugly feäce can't bribe the brooks
To show it back young han'some looks,
Nor crooked vo'k intice the light
To cast their zummer sheädes upright:
Noo goold can blind our Meäker's zight.
An' what's the odds what cloth do hide
The bosom that do hold inside
A free an' honest heart, John?