The loneliness of these men
Is beyond a pitiable measure;
For it is worse
Than being a bachelor.
I have always felt sorry for ’em
How that they were once in love;
For their roses are now withered
And their lamps, put out.
When they wake up, they
Still think it is a dream that
Their heart-throb is gone.
Not just gone, gone for life.
When they walk or take a stroll,
Across the alley,
Along the road and to the beach,
The frenzy hands to hold isn’t there anymore.
When they take a drive,
No angel to sit by them anymore.
When they eat,
They now eat alone.
The widowers !
Some, for love sake,
Cannot bear their loss—quickly,
They’d join their heartthrob in paradise.