Same Old Story

By Harry B. Smith

History, and nature too, repeat themselves they say.
Men are only habit’s slaves; we see it every day.
Life has done its best for me, I find it tiresome still;
For nothing’s anything at all, and ev’rything is nil.

Same old get-up, dress, and tub,
Same old breakfast; same old club;
Same old feeling; same old blue;
Same old story – nothing new.

Life consists of paying bills as long as you have health,
Woman? She’ll be fond of you – as long as you have wealth.
Think some times of marriage, if the right girl I could strike;
But the more I see of girls, the more they are alike.

Same old giggles, smiles and eyes,
Same old kisses; same old sighs;
Same old quarrel; same adieu;
Same old story – nothing new.

Go to theatres some times to see the latest plays –
Same old plots I played with in my happy childhood days.
Hero same; same villain; same old heroine in tears,
Starving homeless in the snow – with diamonds in her ears.
Same stern father making bluffs;
Leading man all teeth and cuffs;
Same soubrettes – still twenty-two;
Same old jokes, too – nothing new.

Friend of mine got married; in a year or so, a boy,
Father simply foolish in his fond paternal joy,
Talked about his “kiddy,” and became a fearful bore.
Just as if a baby never had been born before.

Same old crying – only more;
Same old business, walking floor;
Same old “kitchy-coochy-coo,”
Same old baby – nothing new.


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