What You Think, You Bore

This is the time that I rejoice

I feel do not scruple to declare

I am satisfied with my might,

health and fortune, I dare say;

When you have plenty, do not hide

Celebrate it and make it grow

Do not fear of some evil eyes

For what you think, you bore.

When there is pain, do shed a tear

Don’t scruple of fear, it hardly lasts

Look around with that of a child’s heart,

Black and white they see, but their hearts full of glee

In mirth, they paint them like flowers,

With joyous ringing that says out loud

Celebrate and boast and it will grow,

Be it mirth or sorrow

For what you think, you bore.