"Young friend," 'e sez. "Oh fix yer thorts on 'igh!
Orl marridges is registered up there!
An' you must cleave unto 'er till yeh die,
An' cherish 'er wiv love an' tender care.
E'n in the days when she's no longer fair
She's still yer wife," 'e sez. "Ribuck," sez I.
"YOUNG FRIEND!" 'e sez.

"Young friend," 'e sez--I sez, "Now, listen 'ere:
This isn't one o' them impetchus leaps.
There ain't no tart a 'undreth part so dear
As 'er. She 'as me 'eart an' soul fer keeps!"
An' then Doreen, she turns away an' weeps;
But 'e jist smiles. "Yer deep in love, 'tis clear,
Young friend," 'e sez.

"Young friend," 'e sez--an' tears wus in 'is eyes--
"Strive 'ard. Fer many, many years I've lived.
An' l kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs
The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived."
"My Gawd!" I sez. "I'll strive as no bloke strivved!
Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer prize?"
"Young friend," 'e sez.

"Young friend," 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way,
'E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen.
"I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day,
But 'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen.
She's fit fer any man, to be 'is queen;