The Port of ‘Men-Who-Might-Have-Been’
Lies just off Hasbeenville.
And all the men-who-might-have-been
Are shabby, grey and still.
One missed a punch; one married wrong;
Ambition died in one.
One loved the light; the light o’ nights
That blaze behind the sun.
By Gosh! It gives a man a chill
To see them, shabby, grey and still –
So many men-who-might-have-been
In the Port of Hasbeenville.

The Port of ‘Men-Who-Might-Have-Been’
Is crowded to the doors.
And all the men-of-might-have-been
Are very dreadful bores.
Their tales are old; their tales are dry –
One trusted in a friend;
One lacked the part; one lacked the heart
To seek the rainbow’s end.
By Gosh! It gives a man the mopes
To see them sitting there like dopes –
So many men-who-might-have-been
In the Port of Busted Hopes.

The Port of ‘Men-Who-Might-Have-Been’
Is east of Used-To-Be
And all the men-who-might-of-been
Are carried passage free.
I’ve seen it pass, their boats of glass,
And drift along the years
With all the men-who-might-have-been
Past shoals of bitter sneers.
By Gosh! It makes a fellow sigh
To see the good ship, Alibi –
With all those men-who-might-have-been
And cargoes of careers!