When our two hearts are in spate,
say dear, before it gets late,
the three golden words,
just one plus two: I love you.
Life for you and me
on this lovely earth
shall be of worth,
a magic, full of music
or else a loud moan,
our frames will be two skeletons,
a mere network of bones,
very much a farmer's scare-crow,
if we fail to say
the three golden words,
just one more than two: I love you...
