And yet Bob always got ahead; I'd find the careless knave Asleep within my fortress walls, And fishing in my cave.
"What, yours!" he said, in great surprise, "You should have told me so. You never said a word, old chum, And how was I to know?"
My slyness hurt more than it helped; If Bob had known, you see, He was too kind to do his best To get ahead of me.
I still was sly when I grew up. I fell in love with Nan, But scorned to own it to myself Or any other man.
So sly was I, Nan never guessed— No more did handsome Bob— That every time she looked my way My heart, it stirred and throbbed.
The same old story! Ere I knew, My chum had loved and won. When I explained I'd picked her out To be my very own,
"What, yours!" he said in great surprise, "You should have told me so. You never said a word, old chum, And how was I to know?"
I've learned my lesson, lost my girl; You'll own 'tis rather rough. Henceforward I'll not be too sly— I'll be just sly enough.