The Black Bordered Letter

An SO es dead in London,     An answered to the call,     An trotted through the Long Street,     With earse an plumes an all?     We was village boys an brothers,     We was warm as we could be,     In the milk-walk an the fried fish,     Up in London, im an me.     We was warm,     We was warm,     As we ad always been;     We never ad a dry word     Till she come between.     I lived round Windsor Terrace,     An im across the wye,     An when I sailed a emigrant     We never said good-bye!     He wos better than a brother,     Wot you Bushmen call a mate.     (Did he reach the rylwye stytion,     As they told me, just too late!)     We was warm,     We was warm,     As pals was ever seen;     We never ad a dry word     Till she come between.     I meant to go back ome again,     I meant to write to-night;     I meant to write by every mail,     But I thought e oughter write.     An now es left North London,     For a better place, perhaps,     Shes flauntin in er widder weeds,     With eyes on other chaps.     We was warm,     We was warm,     As we ad always been;     We never ad a dry word     Till she come between.     Oh! tongues is bad in wimmin,     When wimmins tongues is bad!     For theyll part men an brothers     World oceans wide, my lad!     There was seven years between us,     An fifteen thousand mile,     An now theres death an sorrer     For ever an awhile.     We was warm,     We was warm,     As two was ever seen;     We never ad a dry word     Till she come between.