THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I-m in the swim,
While my wife-s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city-
It all seems very tame-
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.

Oh, my wife-s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover-
The greenest in the game-
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.

Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife-s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.

A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)-
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He-ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife-s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.

I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife-s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander-
It almost seems absurd-
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife-s third.

But my wife-s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We-ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We-ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.