We ran on the snow-crust like fleet nimble deer,
Until our fair cheeks would like rosebuds appear.
I never was lonesome, and never afraid,
If Hiram, my brother, for company stayed.
O, then we were happy in winter or spring,
Yes, happier far than the happiest king.
You grew up to manhood, and left your old home,
But may you he happy wherever you roam.
I ne'er can forget how it made my heart grieve,
When you of the precious old homestead took leave;