Three husbands once met in the street of a town,
In the street of a town as the crowd pass’d by;
And one had a heartache, and one was cast down,
And the other look’d gloomy, and said with a sigh,
“Yet we must toil that the children may play,
Though a night of disquiet oft follows the day;
And the old world goes on rolling.”
Three old men stood by the side of a tomb,
By the side of a tomb when the night drew nigh;
And they look’d to the westward, all shrouded in gloom,