I sing my plain upcountry Ann,
In two years, she will be my wife,
And become the joy of my life,
Blessed Day that I will make her my own.
Not a word of her face, her shape, or her eyes,
Of flames or boobs shall you hear,
Though I admire beauty, it’s Virtue I adore,
That fades not in fifty years.
In conversation, delightful and dear,
Peaceful, engaging and free,
In good and bad times, a faithful companion,
I will cling to my lovely Ann.
In industry, hardworking and ambitious,
Frugal, creative and entrepreneurial,
In buying and spending, a conscious saver,
I will cling to her.
In attire and adornment, old-fashioned!
As she says, what is a Butterfly? At Best,
He is but a Caterpillar dressed.
Yet she dresses gracefully, and smiles at my friends.
A poetess no less, she reads, writes and sings,
No dull moment fills her time,
A great prayer warrior, a faithful friend,
She draws down blessings from Heaven.
We all have some faults, and so may my Ann,
But then they are exceedingly small,
And I will get used to them, they’re just like my own,
I scarcely can see them at all!
A great friend was to man never given,
Steadfast and firm, she defends my good name,
Her compassionate voice and kind hands,
Doubles the feelings I have.
I speak in my full senses,
I am not drank with love,
My dear friends, how can I be so fortunate?
