Father has gone to the mountains for gold
Hid for his baby for ages untold;
He will come home when the wind bloweth cold,
Calling for baby.
Brother has gone to the mountains to seek
Quartz-gems as rosy as baby’s bright cheek;
He will bring topaz from valley and peak,
Calling for baby.
Sister has gone to the mountains to bring
All the bright blossoms that wake in the spring;
She will come, blithe as the birdies that sing,
Calling for baby.
If we forget thou are lent from the skies,
Angels may come from the Father All-Wise,
With a great love shining out of their eyes,
Calling for baby.