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| - I guess we won't swap those barbershop harmonies no more You can't sing 'em with three, you gotta have four And ain't it a crime, a real crying shame Screwed up and all wet We used to be thick How quick they forget Here's how it becomes a guitar, bass and drums, without a horn That saxophone leaves, and a trio is born Not much does it take to go out 'n' break A nice matching set Not much of a trick How quick they forget Like three blind mice Or three on a matchstick Three makes only three Him plus him plus me Makes us . . . whoopee! Let's see, three bears And three little kittens Signed, sealed, said, and done One plus one plus one Makes what? . . . No fun We're not what we were Any fool would prefer Any four-handed game There's nothing that squares Without two complete pairs So it's just not the same And I guess we ain't got no more Of those hot old nights in store Our future looks dull, a regular snore And what is it for? Why go busting up a happy quartet? He's all out of tune How soon they forget Well, ain't it a sin It's a real crying shame Three fellas is left One fella's to blame Don't want it to end Not now and not yet It makes a guy sick How quick they forget Just three little pigs Out hustling gigs from door to door What used to be fun Sans one is a chore As all of that "Put 'er there old pal Hail-fellow-well-met" Fades into the past How quick they forget He thinks he's so chic How quick they forget We went and broke up the clique How quick they forget That guy's a real yick How quick they forget How quick, how quick They forget
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