You have come back? — he said.
I have come back.
Tell me, is some one dead,
That you wear black?

Where have you been, my son —
Come, tell me where?
Life's now but little fun,
Tied to a chair

Brooding the whole day long
On days gone by
When I was young and strong —
I, even I!

Speak, lad, and tell me now
Where you have been?
Over the Dead Man's Brow
To Birkshaw Green.

Did John go with you too?
Ay, he was there.
Walking, the two of you,
Taking the air?

Well to be young, my lad,
Tramping the heather —
Can't I just see you, gad,
Chattering together,

Careless and free and gay,
You and your brother!
Little we found to say,
One to the other.

What, you've not quarrelled, Ben?
Quarrelled? Nay, dad!
Where have you left him, then —
Quick, tell me, lad?

Where is my younger son?
Under the birk.
The birk? Ay, the ragged one
Hard by the kirk.

Left him, my little Jack,
There in the night?
And he — does he too wear black?
Nay, he wears white.