Mary and I were twenty-two When we were wed; A well-matched pair, right smart to view The town's folk said. For twenty years I have been true To nuptial bed. But oh alas! The march of time, Life's wear and tear! Now I am in my lusty prime With pep to spare, While she looks ten more years than I'm, With greying hair. 'Twas on our trip dear friends among, To New Orleans, A stranger's silly trip of tongue Kiboshed my dreams: I heard her say: 'How very young His mother seems.' Child-bearing gets a woman down, And six had she; Yet now somehow I feel a clown When she's with me; When cuties smile one cannot frown, You must agree. How often I have heard it said: 'For happy fate, In age a girl ten years ahead Should choose her mate.' Now twenty years to Mary wed I know too late.