| Though let’s be fair
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| I had other loves before my husband
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| Other sweethearts
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| Tom Kitsos, for instance
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| And another I won’t mention
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| I loved him truly, or so I thought
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| Turned out in another snare he’d been caught
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| They were to get married that June
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| And all the relatives
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| From New Hampshire and Harrisburg, were coming
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| And the day I heard, I went home
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| And closed the door to my room
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| And I laid down on my bed
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| And I may have cried
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| Very briefly
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| I watched and wondered if they would last
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| I tried to tell myself «put it in the past,»
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| And that June
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| As I was the organist at our church, didn’t you know
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| I was up in the choir loft, looking down
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| On all their friends and relations
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| Playing as they walked down the aisle
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| I’d see him 'round some
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| We’d nod and smile
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| I couldn’t decide if I was still in love with him
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| After all this while
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| I’d see them together at church
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| And they’d look sort of grim
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| It didn’t seem as though she was happy with him |