What makes me love him?
It`s not his singing,
I`ve heard his singing,
It sours the milk
And yet, it`s gotten to the point
Where I prefer that kind of milk.

What makes me love him?
It`s not his learning.
He`s learned so slowly,
His whole life long
And though he really knows
A multitude of things
They`re mostly wrong.


He`s not romantic,
And yet I love him.
No one occasion
He`s used me ill
And though he`s handsome
I know inside me
Were he a plain man
I`d love him still.


What makes me love him?
It`s quite beyond me,
It must be something
I can`t define.
Unless it`s merely
That he`s masculine
And that he`s mine.