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��YOUNG AND OLD
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.
— Henry Allsopp.
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