The Dear Folks in
Owd Ben'll bring the letters, Christmas morn, and if there's one
As comes across from Canada straight from their absent son,
My Mother's hands'll tremble, and my Dad'll likely say:
“Do n't seem like Christmas time no more, with our dear lad away.”
Ah me! If I could just have wings, and in the dimsey light
Go stealing up the cobbled path this lonesome Christmas night,
Lift up the latch with gentle hand — My!
What a shout there'd be!
From those dear folks down in Devon!
What a welcomin’ for me!