Listen to it.
When I first met Tim, he'd sing it to his friend Jon to be funny. Before too long, he had learned it on the guitar, and not too long after, he began to play it for me.
It's pretty cheesy with lines like "Maybe it's her eyes, gently searching my soul [...] but I think mostly it's her smile" But it's also got a few good ones like "...or her eyebrows when I do something stupid." and "Maybe it's her smell, the lotion she wears, or how my hands smell like Country Pear for days."
Like it or not (it's too familiar a song for me to decide), I only have to hear the first few notes, and I know I'm about to be serenaded. Practicing before church, Tim would only have to play those notes on the guitar to get my laugh from across the room.
This morning, Tim was playing his guitar. I stepped outside to feel the temperature, and I heard the beginning of the song. "Oh no!" I thought. "I'm not in there to receive it!" I was back inside in a second anyway, only to hear Tim singing something like this:
Maybe it's her face, black and white with a spot
or how she snorts and jumps around.
Maybe it's her nose, gently searching my crotch,
but I think mostly it's her gas.
That's as far as he got serenading the dog before we were both laughing pretty hard.
But it makes me think of the endless verses that could be written about our dog's features.
No comments:
Post a Comment