And dad lights up his old crook pipe and says,
“Now how’ve ye be’n?
Set down and tell us how ye’ve fared and tell
us how ye’ve done,
You’ve sent us letters right along, but them
don’t talk it, son.
A minit with ye, face to face, beats hours with
a pen;
God bless ye, bub! Ye’re welcome back! Now
tell us how’ve ye be’n?”