Now my family have departed--for the good Lord took them early-- And I turn to thee, O England, as a son that seeks his home. Now younger folk may plough and plant the plains I love so dearly, Whose acres stretch too wide for feet that can no longer roam. If the western skies are bluer and the western snows are whiter, And the flowers of the prairie-lands are bright and honey-sweet, 'Tis the scent of English primrose makes my weary heart beat lighter As I count the days that part me from your little cobble street. For the last time come the reapers (you can hear the knives ring cheery As they pitch the bearded barley in a thousand tents of gold); For I see the cliffs of Devon bulking dark beyond the prairie, And hear the skylarks calling to a heart that's growing old. When the chaff-piles cease their burning and the frost is closing over All the barren leagues of stubble that my lonely feet have passed, I shall spike the door and journey towards the Channel lights of Dover-- That England may receive my dreams and bury them at last! Husbands Over Seas Each morning they sit down to their little bites of bread, To six warm bowls of porridge and a broken mug or two. And each simple soul is happy and each hungry mouth is fed-- Then why should she be smiling as the weary-hearted do? All day the house has echoed to their tiny, treble laughter (Six little rose-faced cherubs who trip shouting through the day), Till the candle lights the cradle and runs dark along the rafter-- Then why should she be watching while the long night wastes away? She tells them how their daddy has sailed out across the seas, And they'll be going after when the May begins to bloom. Oh, they clap their hands together as they cluster round her knees-- Then why should she be weeping as they tumble from the room? The May has bloomed and withered and the haws are clinging red, The winter winds are talking in the dead ranks of the trees; And still she tells of daddy as she tucks each tot in bed-- God pity all dear women who have husbands over seas! The Country Goes to Town The Country walked to Town, and what did she find there? Not a bird nor flower, the trees forsaken were; The folk were walking two-and-two in every lane and street-- You scarce could hear your neighbour for the racket of their feet. She could not see the sun shine for dust about the sky; She could not hear the winds call, the walls went up so high; And even when the night came to brush aside the day, She found about the city they were driving it away. "Then what have you got here?" the Country asked the Town. "There's not a green leaf anywhere, the world is bleak and brown, I haven't seen a red cheek nor heard a woman's laughter; I'm going back to Bird Land, but won't you follow after?"