Before me is a sum
and the mathematics is on my shoulder.
Minus, minus, plus, minus, minus, plus
is the formulae.
How do you win the heart of a virgin girl?
All you have to do is sing a love anthem
and recite the pledge.
Thus it goes,
‘if you find her romantic eyes skipping your eyes, find a rose.
And when your rose finds out she wears a heart
be sure there is a kind of man she likes'.
Maybe he's the kind who sings like a Nightingale
and calls her name in every rhyme.
Maybe he's the kind who smiles all time
and sweet in touch as a hive.
Maybe he's the kind who plays on shores
and has her not to every chore.
Maybe he's the kind who's worthy of trust
and mindful of breasts not.
So is the sum,
if she is one, and you are one, find her not.
If she is tough and you are rough, rush her not.
Sure, if I can sing
to call her name in every rhyme
to smile with her