For better for worse,
But rarely in rage,
Or when hidden in sheets,
With someone half their age.
For richer or poor,
But not when they're old,
Sensual attractions,
turn into mold.
In sickness and health,
But not when in pain,
When the plague is hiding,
in the bachelor brain.
Till death do them part,
We all wish them well.
Their misery promised,
By the iron church bell.