Classic Poem

O she's a girl of winsome face,
A maid of fairest mould, O,
And all her garments fall with grace
In ev'ry bending fold, O.
My heart it leaps to see her walk,
So stately step her feet, O,
My tongue is dumb to hear her talk,
Her voice it sounds so sweet, O,
For oh! she seems to my poor mind
The very pride of womankind.

Whene'er she sits, she sitting seems
The fairest to the sight, O;
She rises up and then one deems
She's fairest at her height, O.
Whene'er I see her in a room
I think her fairest there, O,
Until again I see her bloom
So bright in open air, O,
For oh! she seems to my poor mind
The very pride of womankind.