Who’d left their lovd homes, ne’er to see them again.
If you ask what their hearts speak whilst moving along,
I fear they will mingle a tear with their song,
Whilst telling the story of wandering so far,
With their dear earthly all in their pockets and car.
The parent is anxious for his loving child,
The dame is more careless, less cautious and mild,
The lad cares for little, if father is near,
Of wars or of bloodshed—he’ll shrink to the rear.
Then who shall watch over, and daily provide