You take your woman to a fancy show;
you buy her candy, flowers, furs and such.
You drive her any place she wants to go,
but none of that will matter very much.
You compliment her looks and see her smile;
you open up the door and wave her through;
you wonder what she's thinking all the while;
it really doesn't matter what you do.
None of those things will do you any good
if Junior won't stand up the way he should.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem