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