If it wasn't for the 'Ouses in Between

by Edgar Bateman

If you saw my little backyard,
"Wot a pretty spot!" you'd cry -
It's a picture on a sunny summer day;
Wiv the turnip tops and cabbages wot people doesn't buy,
I makes it on a Sunday look all gay.
The neighbours fink I grows 'em, and you'd fancy you're in Kent,
Or at Epsom if you gaze into the mews;
It's a wonder as the landlord doesn't want to raise the rent,
Because we have such nobby distant views.

Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
And Chingford to the eastward could be seen;
Wiv a ladder and some glasses,
You could see to 'Ackney Marshes,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.

We're as countrified as can be wiv a clothes prop for a tree,
The tub-stool makes a rustic little stile;
Ev'ry time the blooming clock strikes there's a cuckoo sings to me,
And I've painted up "To Leather Lane, a mile."
Wiv tom-ar-toes and wiv radishes wot 'adn't any sale,
The backyard looks a puffick mass o' bloom;
And I've made a little beehive wiv some beetles in a pail,
And a pitchfork wiv the 'andle o' the broom.

Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
And the soap works from the 'ouse-tops could be seen;
If I got a rope and pulley,
I'd enjoy the breeze more fully,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.

There's the bunny shares iis egg box wiv the cross-eyed cock and hen,
Though they 'as got the pip and him the 'morf;
In a dog's 'ouse on the line-post there was pigeons, nine or ten,
Till some one took'd a brick and knocked it off.
The dust-cart, though it seldom comes, is just like 'arvest 'ome
And we made to rig a dairy up some'ow;
Put the donkey in the wash'ouse wiv some imitation 'orns,
For we're teaching 'im to moo just like a kah.

Oh! it really is a wery pretty garden,
And 'Endon to the westward could be seen;
And by clinging to the chimbley,
You could see across to Wembley,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.