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IF IT WASN'T FOR THE 'OUSES IN BETWEEN (Edgar Bateman / George LeBrunn) Gus Elen - 1899 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 finks I grow '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 wery 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 tomatoes and wiv radishes Wot 'adn't any sale The backyard looks a purfick mass o' bloom And I've made a little beehive Wiv some beetles in a pail And a pitchfork wiv the 'andle of a broom Oh! it really is a wery pretty garden And Rye 'Ouse from the cock-loft could be seen Where the chickweed man undresses To bathe 'mong the water cresses If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between There's the bunny shares his 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 someone took 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 Though the gasworks is at Woolwich They improve the rural scene For mountains they would very nicely pass There's the mushrooms in the dust-hole With the cowumbers so green It only wants a bit 'o 'ot 'ouse glass I wears this milkman's nightshirt And I sits outside all day Like the ploughboy cove what's mizzled o'er the Lea And when I goes indoors at night They dunno what I say 'Cause my language gets as yokel as can be Oh! it really is a wery pretty garden And soapworks from the 'ousetops 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


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