We've been together now for forty years

She wears a artful bonnet, feathers stuck upon it, Coverin' a fringe all curled; She's just about the sweetest, prettiest and neatest Doner in the wide, wide world! And she'll be Missis 'Awkins, Missis 'En'ry 'Awkins, Got 'er for to name …

Wot cher! all the neighbours cried, Who yer gonna meet, Bill, Have yer bought the street, Bill? Laugh! I thought I should've died, Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road.

We was as ’appy as could be that day Down at the Welsh ’Arp, which is ’Endon way.

I look'd far back into the past, and lo! in bright array, I saw, as in a dream, the forms of ages pass'd away. It was a stately convent, with its old and lofty walls, And gardens with their broad green walks, where soft the footstep falls.

On the morning of January 11th, 1860, I passed, for the eighth time, through the Golden Gate... As the shores of California faded in the distance, and the summits of the Coast Range sank under the blue horizon, I bade farewell — yes, I do …

Tho’ sickness yet a while forbears, Yet time destroys what sickness spares; Now Helen lives alone in fame And Cleopatra's but a name; Time must indent that heav'nly brow, And thou must be what they are now.