WHY I HAVE NEVER MARRIED
	     Lester A. Rowland - 4/17/1918

Yes, I’m a bachelor, I suppose
Still staying single while others goes
Into married life and wedded bliss.
But I’m content, I wish no husband’s home or kiss.

Now why should I marry?  I’m happy and free.
I can do as I please, the world I can see.
I have no quarrelsome woman to please
Nor no howling babies to seize.

Yes, I’m single and can have big times,
Can do what I please with my nickels and dimes.
If I married, Oh dear, I must save every cent
To take care of wifey or be a bad gent.

Now this is a time of High Living you see,
And a wife is expensive, they always tell me.
So what could I do with my seventy and five,
Why it sure wouldn’t keep us very much alive.

If I were to marry, I’d want a fine cook.
I tell you it grieves me to think or look
At so many nice girls with beauty and wealth
With talents of music and pictures of health,
And delightfully charming, winsome and fair,
That they were perfection, so you’d declare.

But I’m sorry to have this statement to make,
Not many can make a very edible cake.
And biscuits Oh no, very few I take
Can make them like Mother used to bake.

Some men are foolish as to marry one of these,
But I tell you not I, no, no, if you please.
Some men say “We’ll marry right now”
If she can’t cook at first, she’ll soon learn how!

I hope they’ll be happy as happy as can be
But I want no experimenting on me.
For an untaught cook would mix a congestion
That would kill a poor man of indigestion.

Now I’m an old man (a full score and two)
And I’ve seen several girls, yes quite a few,
But not one have I seen in ever so many
That I loved one bit, no not any.

If one should marry he must love her so
That he’d never think of wanting to go
To pool rooms or clubs, to ramble or roam,
But always spend his evenings at home.

This is a time of war you know,
Of death, troubles, disease and woe.
All young men are going to fight
They may not come back, or they might
With disfigured face or only one leg
And to make a living, they’d have to beg.

‘Tis bad enough for yourself you know
But far worse for a wife also
Tied down to a deformed wreck, yes sir,
It wouldn’t be fair at all to her.

Suppose you marry and go to France
And then get killed by some mischance,
Then wife and babes at home all alone
Would wish and look for you to come home.

If I go to France, and there go to sleep,
I’ll Leave no family behind me to weep.
So I’ll live alone in the bachelor’s hall
And be content like good old Paul.
I’ll try to do all the good that I can,
And not have the troubles of a married man.

		Conclusion:

When the old war is ended, and torn hearts are mended
And there is no more strife, I may go to inquiring
And courting untiring, and take to myself a wife.

She’ll be of good station; have a fine education
And lots of sense you’ll see; good health none excelling,
And love so compelling, that happy I always will be.




    Source: geocities.com/ronnierowland