Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘My house is built of goodly stone,
But in its walls I feel so lone!
A mantle of finest cloth I wear,
But ’neath it an aching heart I bear.
Loud howls the wind, wild drives the snow,
Parting, oh, parting is bitterest woe!
On the belfry tower is a trumpet shrill,
But down the kirkyard the dead lie still.’”