The Black Bordered Letter

AN' SO 'e's 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.