Oh, my boy, come in, do.
You've come back at last,
Two years since we saw you,
How the time has passed !
Have a bath and shave first,
No — a cup of tea ?
Think you want a rest worst ?
Dear, oh deary me !
Look, boy, at your boots, too,
All cut with the rocks,
Have you brought home with you
Any mended socks
They are always tearing ?
Threw them all away ?
Alberts you are wearing ?Fix this text
Goodness, what are they ?
Felt that you were coming,
So I wrote to Bob,
He says things are humming :
And you'll get a job.
Now, dear, don't come near me,
You're all over dust,
Can you smoke ? Oh, dear me.
'Spose so if you must.
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Comments about this poem (Back Again by Louisa Lawson )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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