If I’d met ye in the village, swan, I wouldn’t
scursely knowed,
Your face behind them whiskers; ’fore ye know
it boys are men!
Hey, mother, here’s your youngster! Land
o’ Goshen, how’ve ye be’n?”
And if, you home returning son,
Some tithe of honor you have won,
Sweeter than telling the world of men
Is telling the old folks “how you’ve be’n.”