And he ushered them on, as a sweet voice whispered,
"Albert, is that you, my dear?"

There was only the likkle lad heard it,
So he crept back and opened the door...
"Do come in, dearest Albert..."
"Well, all right..." and he looked round in wonder and awe...

There was nobody there, just a picture,
All done up in a fancy gold frame,
Of a lovely young lady, but then, as he looked,
He heard the voice whisper his name.

"Where are you, Dear Albert, my angel,
So handsome, so clever and kind,
My gallant, my charmer, my consort,
Our destinies ever entwined...

Albert, prince of my heart, gift of heaven,
Albert, witty and wise and sincere,
Albert, here in my...", "Albert! Ramsbottom!
What are you doing in theer!"

"Nothing, Mother, I just...", "Well, we've finished,
And we're off now to get Souvenirs."

  With the words of the Queen of the Empire
Still ringing in't little lads ears,

He says, "Well, I know what I'm getting",
As he joined in the jovial crush.
"It's a postcard of that lady's picture..."
And he turned away, hiding a blush.

So now, on his wall, next to Gazza,
Is a young lady in a gold frame,
Who had once intertwined with his destiny
And smiled as she whispered his name.

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