My Friends In Bohemia

Friends have I in Bohemia three -- My pipe, my dog, myself, you see We make a jolly trinity -- We three are careless Bohemians. When editors reject my "stuff," The larder's lean and things look "tough," My friend, the pipe, gives me a "puff" -- My friend number one in Bo-he-mi-a. I look into my dog's brown eyes, He whines as if to sympathize, That he's hungry you'd ne'er surmise, My friend number two in Bohemia. When I come in I hear his bark Shout welcome down the stairway dark. Just strike a match -- yes, that's he -- hark! My friend number two in Bo-he-mi-a. My pipe is more to me than maid, It ne'er with my affections played, Nor of my heart a football made -- This friend number one in Bohemia. My dog is more than man to me, He never lied to me, you see, While man has lied to and on me -- God save my friends in Bo-he-mi-a.