Tommy wouldn't dream of dreaming such a thing. As for the "home of my fathers," the shape of the idea would give him a fit. "Bit o' skirt more like it."
Stay, stay with us, thou art weary and worn;
And fain was the war beaten soldier to stay—
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away—
"D'ye 'ear this, Spud?" says Tommy Toenails. "The voice in 'is dreeamin' hear melted."
"Bit o' wax, more like," says Spud.
"I say a flea an' charnce it," adds Tooting Tom.
"Hand," says Spud, "wen 'e hawoke 'e got anuther stomikful o' sorrer. Marrid man, too. Gawd 'elp 'im."