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.