You’re coming back from market;
Your hands are full.
I see you through the window;
My steps are fast!
I open the door, push, just right.
But, where’d you go?
“Hee-hee-hee!” Behind the tree!
I go round, but you’re ahead of me!
You stand in the doorway
And say, bright as sunshine,
“Welcome, sir. Will you come in?”
I rarely win,
But you, my Love, are mine!