What makes me love him?
Its not his singing,
I've heard his singing,
It sours the milk
And yet, its gotten to the point
Where I prefer that kind of milk.
What makes me love him?
Its not his learning.
Hes learned so slowly,
His whole life long
And though he really knows
A multitude of things
Theyre mostly wrong.
Hes not romantic,
And yet I love him.
No one occasion
Hes used me ill
And though hes handsome
I know inside me
Were he a plain man
Id love him still.
What makes me love him?
Its quite beyond me,
It must be something
I can't define.
Unless its merely
That hes masculine
And that hes mine.