Father, father, who is that a-whispering?
          Who is it who whispers in the wood?
               You say it is the breeze
               As it sighs among the trees,
     But there's some one who whispers in the
          wood.

     Father, father, who is that a-murmuring?
          Who is it who murmurs in the night?
               You say it is the roar
               Of the wave upon the shore,
     But there's some one who murmurs in the
          night.

     Father, father, who is that who laughs
            at us?
          Who is it who chuckles in the glen?
               Oh, father, let us go,
               For the light is burning low,
     And there's somebody laughing in the
            glen.

     Father, father, tell me what you're waiting
            for,
          Tell me why your eyes are on the
            door.
               It is dark and it is late,
               But you sit so still and straight,
     Ever staring, ever smiling, at the door.