Same Time Next Year

I'd sent it to you, longhand mostly, forgetting that you would prefer the English version, blow me down, had spent a week to translate all into the Kaiser's language, on my own. Same time next year it said, a catch, no doubt I dreamed to take the worn out path, of course, the very thought was like a shot of straight morphine, but you, in sober mood, you ruled the damn thing out. Well, I shall go each year and sit there sipping ale, there's cable and the papers full of news, perhaps some year I shall come back to tell the tale when she dropped in and said, good day mate, my recluse.