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
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