But, ah, how foolish to forget
One other evil to be met!
’Tis sad to say, but must be told,
She quite forgot he might grow old.
Grow old he did, as most men do,
Grew gray and bald and round of tummy;
Grew deaf, grew cross and crabbed, too;
Grew bent and wrinkled like a mummy.
“Oh, Gee! Oh, Fudge! My Sakes! Good Lands!
What’s this I’ve got upon my hands?”