He was a young lad
Ran from his country town,
Out to the wild land,
Adventures straight at hand,
    And he's not coming home yet
    `Though sometimes they get a letter,
    Saying `I'm far off!
    But I think I'm doing better.'

She was a young lass
A Noble blood-red heart,
Should have been his bride
Until they fell apart,
    And he's not coming home yet
    `Though sometimes they get a letter,
    Saying `I'm far off!
    But I think I'm doing better.'

They were all jolly friends
More than double-fine,
Worked in their home town
While he was down the line.
    And he's not coming home yet
    `Though sometimes they get a letter,
    Saying `I'm far off!
    But I think I'm doing better.'

The summer time passed by
And they did not forget,
Died last butterfly
His mind was homeward set.
    So now he's coming home, yes
    And sometimes they will remember,
    The days on the road
    When he sits on the long nights of December.