I’d ever want another man
Like you?
Eugene Fitch Ware.
WHAT WILL WE DO?
WHAT will we do when the good days come—
When the prima donna’s lips are dumb,
And the man who reads us his “little things”
Has lost his voice like the girl who sings;
When stilled is the breath of the cornet-man,
And the shrilling chords of the quartette clan;