Not long ago, or so it seems,
When I was young and oh so eager,
I climbed on clouds and dined on dreams
And fretted not when means were meager.

Each scene was new, each feat a thrill,
Each prospect temptingly inviting;
Of pleasure's wine I drank my fill,
Existence constantly exciting.

How rich the days, how sweet the nights,
How appetizing every menu;
The wide world teemed with rare delights
I thought would evermore continue.

Of ecstasy I had my share
(Though fleeting I would soon discover)
Until I traveled West and there
I met a maid . . . and still I love her.

Now all has changed . . . the pace is slow,
My life's no more as once I knew it;
And yet I swear if I could go
Back to the past . . . I would not do it!

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