Boys I miss the old folk, they're nearly all away
I miss their charm, I miss their wit, and the things they used to say
I miss the friendly neighbours, when they came they'd never knock
You'd hear the rattle of the latch, next thing in they'd walk
They were always very helpful. especially when you're ill
The neighbours today would probably help, but they'd probably send you a bill
I miss the old grate fire, and the crook with hooks and chains
I miss the big black kettle, that was heated by the flames
I miss the big round griddle, boys but it was large
I miss the smell of soda bread, the pancakes and the fadge
I miss the big long table, with the tin of syrup in the middle
Spreading it on the fresh baked scones, still roasting from the griddle
I miss the smell of jelly, made from apples and from crabs
I miss the snort of the wee pet pig, curled up beside the habs
I miss the big, tall dresser, that held the shining delph
The blue and white striped cups and plates, that sat on every shelf
I miss the wee, low windows, and the wee half door
I miss churning butter, and the milk japs on the floor
But I miss the old folk, there's only left a few
Very soon the time will come when we'll be old folk too
But I wonder in the years to come when in heaven I hope to be
Will any of the young folk ever say, that they missed me!