If it wasn't for the 'Ouses in Between

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.