When at first,
aware of masculinity,
I began to think of feminine curls,
I became the toast of my vicinity,
For I always had a multitude of girls.
But now that a married man, at last am I,
How aware of my dear departed
past am I?
Where is the life that late I led?
Where is it now, totally dead?
Where is the fun I used to find?
Where is it gone?
It's gone with the wine.
A marriage life may all be well,
but raising an heir
could never compare
to raising a bit of hell.
So I repeat what first I said.
Where is life at late?
In dear Milano, where are you, Momo?
Still selling those pictures
of the scriptures in the Duomo?
Oh, and Carolina,
where are you, Lina?
Still peddling your pizza
in the streets of Taromina?
And in Firenzea, where are you,
Still there in your pretty, itty,
bitty, bitty palace?
And sweet Lucretia, so young and gay
What scandal is doing
in the ru ins of Pompeii?
Where is the life that late I led?
Where is it now?
It's totally dead.
Where is the fun I used to find?
Where is it gone?
It's gone with the wine.
The marriage game is quite
all right.
Yes, during the day it's easy to play,
but oh, what a bore at night.
So I repeat what first I said.
Where is the life that laid?
Where is Rebecca?
My Becky -weckio
Could still she be cruising
That amusing Ponte Vecchio?
Where is Fedora,
the wild Vriajo?
I'm lucky I missed
a gangster sister from Chicago.
Where is Venetia,
who loved to chat so?
Could still she be drinking
in her stinking pink palazzo?
And lovely Liza, where are you, Liza?
You gave a new meaning
to the leaning tower
of Pisa
Where is the life that late I led?
Where is it now?
It's totally dead.
Where is the fun I used to find?
Where is it gone?
It's gone with the wine.
I've oft been told of nuptial bliss.
But what do you do a quarter to two
with only a shrewd kiss?
So I repeat what first I said
Where is the life that laid I led?