HAVE a linnet small and brown,
And I to it am kind,
Because it must be sad at heart,
For it is quite, quite blind.
Oh! only think what it must be
Never to see the flowers,
And never see the sky and trees,
In golden summer hours.
But still my linnet sweetly sings
A rippling, happy song,
As though its tiny heart o'erflowed
With joy the whole day long.
And so, whenever I am cross,
And tears fall like the rain,
Oh! when I hear my linnet sing,
It makes me good again!