Swedish Lady

Here comes that pretty, Swedish lady again.

I see her on the road most mornings.

She only tells me hello when she’s passing.

And I only say hi to her in response.

How I want her to say something else.

I’m not satisfied with just hello all the time.

 

Her smile seems to be inviting a conversation.

I suppose she’s a traditional person.

Perhaps she wants me to make the first move.

I’m not sure; she could be just shy.

Does her heart pound when she greets me?

I wonder if she thinks the same way I do.

 

Even though I’d like to know more about her,

I won’t ask the Swedish lady her name.

I stand at my gate in the morning just to see her,

But I don’t want her to know about this.

If she starts a conversation with me, I’d be glad.

Every time I woo a girl, I don’t succeed.

 

I don’t want to tell her nice things in vain,

So I won’t say she’s the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen.

I won’t tell her that I like the way she walks,

Neither will I say she’s the lady I desire.

And I’m not going to tell her that I’m falling for her.

I’ll just tell her hi whenever I see her.

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