Some ladies are foolish

Some ladies are gay

Some ladies are comely

Some live while they may



My lady's a wild flying dove

My lady is wine

She whispers each evening

She's mine, mine, mine



She likes pretty pictures

She loves singing birds

She'll watch them for hours

But I see only her



She tells me she's learning

Just how full her cup can be

she asks me to help her

But I know, she's teaching me