Any Lover To His Lass                                                                                                   
Most people live a humdrum life
When they are married; day by day
They have their petty little strife,
They fuss and argue, yea and nay,
And so they wear their lives away;
Bu we, we gaze in scorn thereat
And in our confidence we say:
"Ah, we won't ever be like that!"
Many a husband leaves his wife
While he goes out alone to play:
A shrew whose tongue is like a knife
Makes many a spouse grow dour and gray,
While love that once was blithe and gay
Grows unromantic, bald and fat;
But our love never shall decay
And we won't ever be like that!

Shrill as the note of any fife
The cynics' voices warn us, "Stay!
The matrimonial state is rife
With trouble, worry and dismay;
Marriage is one continual fray
Or else a boredom, dull and flat!"
But why should that concern us, pray?
For we won't ever be like that!


Sweetheart, though all the world should flay
Wedlock as one continual spat;
It wouldn't cause us to delay
For we won't ever be like that!

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