I sent my love a parcel
        In the days when we were young,
    Or e'er by care and trouble
        Our heart-strings had been wrung.
    By parcels post I sent it,
        What 'twas I do not know,
    In the days when we were courting,
        A long time ago.

    The spring-time waxed to summer,
        Then autumn leaves grew red,
    And in the sweet September
        My love and I were wed.
    But though the Church had blessed us,
        My little wife looked glum;
    I'd posted her a parcel,
        And the parcel hadn't come.

    Ah, many moons came after,
        And then there was a voice,
    A little voice whose music
        Would make our hearts rejoice.
    And, singing to her baby,
        My dear one oft would say,
    "I wonder, baby darling,
        Will that parcel come to-day?"

    The gold had changed to silver
        Upon her matron brow;
    The years were eight-and-twenty
        Since we breathed our marriage vow,
    And our grandchildren were playing
        Hunt-the-slipper on the floor,
    When they saw the postman standing
        By our open cottage door.

    Then they ran with joy to greet him,
        For they knew he'd come at last;
    They had heard me tell the story
        Very often in the past.
    He handed them a parcel,
        And they brought it in to show,
    'Twas the parcel I had posted
        Eight-and-twenty years ago.

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