Young.What makes the dale so strange, my dear?

What makes the dale so strange?

Old. The men have gone from the dale, my dear,

And that makes all the change.

Young. The lanes and glens are still at night,

No laughter or songs I hear.

Old. Our lover-lads have marched to the fight

And maidens are lonely, my dear.

Young. The kine are slow to come to the call

That once were all so quick.

Old. They miss the voice known best of all,

Of John or brother Dick.

Young. And will the dale be always strange

And dull and sad, my dear?

Old. Ay, lassie, we shall feel the change

For many a mournful year.