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.