When my moustache curled, And my hair was black, And I wore tight trousers And a diamond stud, I was an excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick. But when the gray hairs began to appear— Lo! a new generation of girls Laughed at me, not fearing me, And I had no more exciting adventures Wherein I was all but shot for a heartless devil, But only drabby affairs, warmed-over affairs Of other days and other men. And time went on until I lived at Mayer’s restaurant, Partaking of short-orders, a gray, untidy, Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan … There is a mighty shade here who sings Of one named Beatrice; And I see now that the force that made him great Drove me to the dregs of life.