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Friends, my heart is half aweary / Of its happiness to-night: / Though your songs are gay and cheery, / And your spirits feather-light, / There's a ghostly music haunting / Still the heart of every guest / And a voiceless chorus chanting / That the Old Times were the best.
CHORUS
All about is bright and pleasant / With the sound of song and jest, / Yet a feeling's ever present / That the Old Times were the best.