What time my Lydia owned me lord
No Persian king had much on Horace;
And when you blew my bed and board
I was some sad, believe me, Mawruss.
What time you loved no other She,
Before this Chloë person signed you,
I flourished like a green bay tree;
Now I'm the Girl You Left Behind You.
This Chloë dame that takes my eye
Has so peculiar an allurance
I would not hesitate to die
If she could cop my life insurance.
Well, as for that, I know a gent
With whom it's some delight to dally.
With me he makes an awful dent;
I'd perish once or twice for Cally.
Suppose our former love should go
Into a new de luxe edition?
Suppose I tie a can to Chlo,
And let you play your old position?
Why, then, you cork, you butterfly,
You sweet, philandering, perjured villain,
With you I'd love to live and die,
Tho’ Cally boy were twice as killin’.