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Like snaw when it’s thaw, Jean,
I’m wearing awa
To the land o’ the leal.
There’s nae sorrow there, Jean,
There’s nae cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is aye fair
In the land o’ the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
Your task’s ended now, Jean,
And I’ll welcome you
To the land o’ the leal.
Our bonny bairn’s there, Jean,
She was balth gu’d and fair, Jean,
And we grudg’d her right sair.
To the land o’ the leal.
Then dry that tearfu’ ee, Jean,
My soul longs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me
To the land o’ the leal.
Now, fare ye well my ain Jean,
This warld’s care is vain Jean,
We’ll meet and aye be fain
In the land o’ the ⟨leal.⟩
