The Wedding March is a wonderful tune
Felix composed it in early June
He married a girl in late July
It’s December now and he wonders why
He says it was all a Midsummer Night’s Dream
That things are not what they once seemed
His sweetheart then, has now turned sour
Each married minute is like an hour
A carefree man was he
Without words, but full of melody
His way was clear, his problems few
Before he uttered the words “I do.”
He ran away to Italy
To learn what happiness could really be
There he became a great sensation
Divorce, for him, brought reformation
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