Upon the Drying of the Matrimonial Ink
Upon the drying of the matrimonial Ink
Neither did think
Upon the drying of the matrimonial ink
Their marriage would stink
Till death do us part
Was not the end but the start
Of what drew them apart
She called him an old fart
He , Her a tart
You see they both played their part
Played at perfecting his and her art
Of driving home the steak
In equal amounts
They soon stopped keeping count
Till the day when they were sat dividing up there assets
They were reminded of the facets
Of what at first drew them both together
And on that very day neither felt too clever
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